


Teenage Dream

by Blueismybusiness



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Eventual Smut, Guilt, I did a lot of fucking research on boxing, I hate research, Kageyama is a smitten teen, Kuroo is a hero, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Trigger Warning for assault of the sexual nature, Warning Tsuki is a major asshole, and a dick, boxing au, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2020-10-14 14:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20602202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueismybusiness/pseuds/Blueismybusiness
Summary: Kageyama is a first year university student who meets Tsuki, a professional boxer, by chance. Kageyama is a bit...obsessed and Tsuki is an asshole. They get it together. Eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...A few years ago I read this fic, I think Tanaka was the prot, and he was a boxer or crushing on one. Either way, between that fic and Katie Perry's Teenage Dream, this idea was born. I quickly forgot about it. Well, a few weeks ago I was hit with some unnatural inspiration and motivation and I started outlining this fic, and here we are. Because it's TsukiKage day, I decided to post the first chapter, though I had intended to hold out until the whole thing was complete. I don't know if I'll post as I write, I may just wait until I'm done with all of it first as I had originally planned. Still, at least this will give me an idea of reader interest. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

The heat of summer desperately clings to the fading season with a humidity that feels like fingers squeezing his lungs. It leaves his skin sticky with sweat beneath clothes that cling to him, and if he could, Kageyama would peel the skin from his bones to feel even moderately cooler.

It’s so hot, the smell of burning asphalt clings to the air amid other chemicals he can’t name, and everything is surrounded by a haze of heat and smog.

It’s a heat wave that has hit Tokyo in mid-September, making it feel like the middle of July. The Weather Channel says it will last the week, much to Kageyama’s discomfort.

They’ve wandered out of the center of the plaza, down several narrow alleys, and ended up on the opposite side near the train tracks. There’s a metal fence to their right and buildings to their left. All in search of Oikawa’s friends and some mysterious restaurant that keeps eluding him.

“I don’t know why I even listen to him,” Oikawa grumbles, pausing to look down the street in front of them, then turning around to look behind them. His pretty face is scrunched up, adorable nose wrinkled in confusion and frustration.

Kageyama finds it irritating. Finds him irritating, especially since it’s so damn stifling and he’s starving to death. And as if to make a point, his stomach gives them gurgling encouragement to hurry on their way. 

Oikawa glares at his belly, then glares at him. Kageyama only shrugs, what’s he supposed to do about it? Oikawa’s the one with the directions. Kageyama doesn’t even know why he’s here, except that since starting university, Oikawa has been weirdly benevolent. It’s a far cry from his attitude toward Kageyama in high school.

Anyway, if it weren’t for the offer of free food, Kageyama would have stayed home and out of the ridiculous heat.

_ You need to get out more, Tobio-chan. It isn’t healthy to be a hermit at so young an age. _

Kageyama rolls his eyes remembering the words spoken to him before he involuntarily left the comfort of air conditioning. 

“Ugh!” Oikawa growls, stomping his foot like a spoiled teenager and aggressively texts Makki. “I’m totally going to punch him when we finally find this stupid restaurant.” He takes off down the street again, leaving Kageyama tripping over his feet as he runs to catch up.

“I bet they’re having a laugh at me. I bet that’s what this is. I wouldn’t put it past them,” Oikawa mutters to himself.

Kageyama has no idea what Oikawa is going on about, but he doesn’t ask for clarification. As...nice as Oikawa has been the last several months, Kageyama isn’t dumb enough to test his patience. He doesn’t doubt that The Grand King would leave him stranded and lost, forced to eat from trash bins to survive.

The thought of eating trash and his still protesting stomach spurs him to open his mouth anyway.

“Why don’t we just ask directions, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa turns to look at him, tilting his head and considering Kageyama not unlike a scientist studying a fascinating piece of mold. Kageyama tries not to flinch under the look. No matter how long he’s known this man, how many of his flaws he’s witnessed, Oikawa still intimidates him.

“Fine,” Oikawa says at last, the statement simple and delivered with a shrug.

Kageyama exhales like he’s just escaped the executioner.

Oikawa, of course, struts into the first open door he comes across. And of course it has to be some shady spot in the basement of one of the buildings. Kageyama wants to groan in exasperation, but he’s too fucking hungry and all he wants is to get back on track so they can eat ASAP.

Kageyama follows Oikawa down the steps and through the door and stops. They’ve entered a small gym; a hole-in-the-wall place of gray cement blocks, poor lighting, and no air conditioning. There are box fans placed sporadically around the room that do nothing to hold back the heat...or the smell. The aroma of sweaty men and dirty gym shorts makes Kageyama wrinkle his nose in disgust as he looks around.

He realizes pretty quick this gym caters to amateur fighters. There’s a sparring ring in the middle of the room surrounded by a faded track, and in every available space sits equipment; some Kageyama recognizes, others not so much.

There are only a handful of guys in the space, each invested in some training routine that looks both painful and frightening. Two men stand by a giant hanging bag, sucking water from a bottle or downing a sports drink. Their conversation is low and Kageyama can’t hear what they’re saying. Not that he’s really that interested, they’re probably just talking about they last guy they beat to death.

One guy striding past him breaks his line of sight, and Kageyama blushes when a blond delinquent with an undercut winks at him. He’s roughly as tall as Kageyama, definitely broader and way more muscular, but he’s covered in tattoos and piercings. He would  _ almost  _ be attractive if he didn’t look like the poster child for gang activity. 

He catches Kageyama still staring at him and grins again, this time sticking out his tongue and flashing the barbell impaling the pink muscle. Kageyama grimaces and shudders. Ew, nevermind, he’s definitely not cute.

Mr. Trouble shrugs and walks away like Kageyama’s rejection meant nothing. Which it probably didn’t. Not that Kageyama cares.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking the door.”

The appearance of a stranger behind him makes him jump, and he scuttles out of the way with a bow muttering his apologies.

The guy that walks in is tall.  _ Tall _ . Probably close to 190 centimeters, if not more. He’s also blonde, but not in the same way as Mr. Trouble. His hair is obviously natural, without the brassy side effects that come from cheap do-it-yourself dye jobs. It’s short and faded on the sides, a little longer on top and swept forward and to the side. He’s wearing thick black glasses and his ice cold eyes are a brown so pale they’re almost gold.

Blondie fiddling with a pair of earbuds as he passes by without giving Kageyama a second look. He wears dark gray joggers and a tight white t-shirt, with a large red and black duffel slung over his shoulder. The t-shirt stretches across his back like it’s almost painted on. Kageyama can’t help the image that flashes through his head of his hands sweeping across the breadth of Blondie’s broad back, mapping the muscle beneath with his fingertips. Kageyama quickly labels the thought ridiculous and shoves it away, his face hot.

“Why didn’t he just say the restaurant in front of the yellow kappa?!”

Kageyama quickly forgets about the blonde and looks around for Oikawa. He’s talking to a shorter man with bleached hair (Is it a fucking trend?) held back with a headband and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks very put out and Kageyama is glad he didn’t have to talk to him. He nods at the tall blonde as he walks by, and if he was acknowledged, Kageyama couldn’t tell. Blondie disappears behind a metal door Kageyama had not noticed, the heavy door swinging slowly shut behind him, but not before Kageyama gets a glimpse of lockers.

Movement from the corner of his eye pulls his attention toward the two guys that were talking by the hanging bag. One is about mid-height with a shaved head and a lot of muscles. The other is taller with jet black hair that looks like it hasn’t been brushed in a month. That guy is walking toward Oikawa with the biggest, creepiest smirk Kageyama has ever seen, and he’s tempted to warn his senpai of incoming danger. But of course Kageyama says nothing, deciding it’s not his problem.

Angry-cigarette guy walks off while Oikawa punches a text into his phone with all the strength of a thousand vicious demons. The creeper stops near Oikawa and says something to him that, by the looks of it, leaves Oikawa less than impressed. He sneers at the creeper who continues to leer at Oikawa completely unaffected.

Kageyama is about to call out Oikawa’s name, if only to get moving sooner, but the tall blonde re-emerges sans glasses and he must have changed clothes because Kageyama is sure the guy was wearing pants when he walked in. Now he’s wearing loose shorts and a very well worn tank top with the sides cut so low, Kageyama is graced with a view of pale, cut abs. This guy’s covered in tattoos too and has a shit ton of earrings in his ears, but unlike Bad Dye Job guy, the whole  _ bad boy _ vibe seems to suit him better.

Or maybe he’s just more attractive. Whatever.

Anyway, Blondie sits on a bench lining one wall, wrapping some kind of fabric around his hands. When he’s done, he stands up to stretch and run in place, then he punches the air with sharp huffs of breath. His fists move so fast, Kageyama can barely keep up between the punch and the snap back. Kageyama assumes he’s warming up for something, and watches with interest, hunger all but forgotten.

“Hey Tsuki, you ‘bout ready?”

The angry-cigarette guy is talking to him and Blondie— _ Tsuki _ , apparently—grunts in acknowledgement. Kageyama scoffs. This guy’s worse at social interaction than he is.

Kageyama watches as Tsuki sticks in a mouthguard and shoves his hands into a funny looking pair of gloves that remind him of those old people with severe arthritis. Tsuki slips between the ropes surrounding the practice ring and goes to stand in a corner, continuing his stretches.

A second later, the bald guy barrels past the ropes yelling enthusiastically about “ _ kicking my snotty kohai’s scrawny ass” _ .

“Tanaka-san, you weigh less than I do. Technically, if anyone is scrawny, it’s you.”

“Wanna say that again, asshole?!”

Kageyama hides his snickering behind his hand because they talk with a bit of a lisp with those things in their mouths and, wow, that Tsuki guy is a real jerk.

Kageyama doesn’t know if his reaction was loud, but he’s briefly drawn the attention of Tsuki as pale, cold eyes land on him like a ton of bricks before being swiftly pulled away. Kageyama’s cheeks warm and he feels a little shell-shocked. 

He recovers quickly enough and in time for a bell to ring. Then things happen kinda fast. Both men go silent as they take offensive stances, and the bald guy—Tanaka—dances back and forth in a wide arc like a lion stalking a potential meal. Tsuki has his right hand up by his face, elbow close to his body and his left hand sitting low. He doesn’t look tense considering the hungry look Tanaka is leveling at him, but he’s not completely relaxed either. His movements as he follows Tanaka are slow and methodical, and his pale eyes are calculating. It makes a shiver run the length of Kageyama’s spine knowing that the guy probably sees everything, misses nothing, and is as deadly as a snake poised to strike.

Tanaka steps forward with a left jab at Tsuki’s face, and it’s blocked, barely even disrupting Tsuki’s careful steps. It's more like Tanaka testing the waters, looking for chinks in Tsuki’s defense. Tanaka jabs again, this time on the right and Tsuki moves his position so the hit just grazes his shoulder.

“That’s it, Tsuki!” Angry-cigarette guy yells from the side of the ring. He’s got one leg hiked up so his foot rests on the edge of the mat as he leans forward, folding his elbows across his knee.

As if spurred by the praise his kohai receives, Tanaka jabs again with his left in rapid succession forcing all of Tsuki’s focus to block him. Then Tanaka swings his hips and Kageyama almost misses the heavy punch coming from the right. 

Tsuki doesn’t miss it, though. He twists, shifting his feet while bringing up his right hand to take the brunt of the blow and simultaneously dropping his right knee slightly as he steps forward while swings his hips to bring his left hand up right into Tanaka’s solar plexus. There is an audible grunt from Tanaka and Angry-cigarette guy is shouting praise and tips from the sidelines, having leaned back to clap his hands.

Kageyama is rooted to the concrete beneath his feet, his awareness narrowed down to the graceful dance that Tsuki expertly leads. Left, left, then right, and Tanaka dodges and blocks with a confident grin, his head and body moving completely out of the way and countering with a swift jab to Tsuki’s ribs. Kageyama feels his heart rate spike, flinching like it had been him to take the hit, but Tsuki just grunts, his eyes narrowing in frustration as Ukai critiques him from the sidelines. They continue to move around each other like predators fighting for dominance. A switch of feet, then a swing of narrow hips, and Tsuki goes in for a left jab at Tanaka’s stomach which he tries to deflect with his right hand, but at the last minute Tsuki snaps his hand back and steps again but comes in from the right with a hook that connects with Tanaka’s jaw that is audibly heard across the room.

Tanaka has to compose himself with a shake of his head as a satisfied smirk snakes across Tsuki’s face. Kageyama’s breath hitches. There is something about this Tsuki guy that is magnetic, despite his shitty personality, and it makes Kageyama’s fingers tingle and his head feel woolly. He can honestly stay and watch the blonde fight all day and never get bored. 

Angry-cigarette guy rings a bell, the sudden jarring  _ ding ding _ snapping Kageyama from the spell he was under. 

“Tobio!”

Kageyama blinks away the daze and turns his head. Oikawa stands at the door, his arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Sighing as if dealing with Kageyama takes all his effort, he drops his hands and snaps at him, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been standing here for five minutes, ready to leave. I finally know where we’re going.”

Kageyama’s stomach makes an announcement, a sound much like Oikawa’s whiny bitching and reminding him of his hunger.

“Hn,” he says, and turns toward Oikawa and the stairs.

It occurs to Kageyama that he’ll never see this place again, having no real reason to return. The thought evokes a profound sense of disappointment which Kageyama doesn’t understand. Boxing is not his sport, nor does it offer any additional techniques relevant to volleyball that could give Kageyama an edge in a match.

He stops at the threshold, regardless, as Oikawa bounds up the stairs with a newfound determination now that they’re only minutes away from reuniting with his friends. 

With one hand on the door frame, Kageyama glances behind himself. Both fighters are at one corner talking to Angry-cigarette guy, and Kageyama has half a mind to stay behind and watch the rest of the sparring match, to hell with hunger.

“C’mon, Tobio-chan. Everyone’s waiting.” 

Kageyama looks back at Oikawa, then one last time back inside the gym, and his gaze immediately locks with those ice cold, honey colored eyes. Kageyama immediately lowers his, his face growing warm with the beginnings of a blush. Kageyama knows he’s shy in normal circumstances, social interactions usually leaving him feeling awkward and irrelevant. But the feeling that rushes through him when the blonde fighter’s— _ Tsuki’s _ —attention is focused on him is a novel sensation he has no idea how to process.

When he looks back up, he’s no longer under scrutiny and he feels oddly...disheartened.

He puts it all out of his head as his stomach protests the lack of sustenance once again, and Kageyama finally ascends the stairs up and away from the gym and... _ him _ .

Dusk has settled on the city as both he and Oikawa make their way back through alleys to the main plaza. The city is still full of people clogging up the sidewalks and hurrying in and out of the various shops and cafes. Oikawa gives a hoot of joy having found the yellow kappa, and subsequently, the restaurant they have been searching for.

But Kageyama’s mind is still back at the gym, with the blonde fighter with the grace of a dancer, and his cold, crystal gaze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama learns that Oikawa is gross and the hot, blonde boxer is an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, I know I posted the first chapter forever ago, but I had a plan. I wasn't even going to post any of it until I had the whole thing written (which wasn't supposed to take as long as it has), but I have no chill. The story isn't finished yet, but I have several chapters written, so I feel safe enough to start posting on a schedule. I'll update on Fridays to give myself time to finish. I readjust once it's complete, we'll see. Anyway, thank you to those who have been reading and commenting. I really appreciate it.

Kageyama packs his book, notebook, and other supplies into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he skips down the stairs of the lecture hall and out the door. It takes him less than a minute to navigate the stairwell of the science building down into the lobby and out the front door, free at last from classes for the weekend.

Once outside, he breathes in the sense of liberty and the chill air that clings to the afternoon. The heatwave is over and fall has immediately taken its place like that impatient guy waiting in line for his morning coffee. From here on out, the weather is going to be cool and cooling. Which is fine with Kageyama, he prefers fall and winter over the scorching heat of summer. It probably has to do with him being a winter baby.

As Kageyama makes his way across campus to the gym for practice, his mind fills with images of keen, golden eyes and fists that move at pinpoint precision. It’s been that way since he wandered into that random basement, thoughts of Tsuki finding their way into his consciousness whenever he isn’t actively focused on something.

Kageyama was weirded out by it at first, but chalked it up to fascination, and gave up fighting it. Since then, he lets his thoughts wander freely, just as they are now as he compares the chill weather to that cool gaze. 

After Kageyama got back home that fateful day, he’s replayed the short fight over and over in his head to the point he’s not sure where the memory ends and imagination begins. He was so captivated by Tsuki; the way he moved, the way he studied his opponent, the lines of his body. As an athlete, he is phenomenally well built, not overly muscular for his height, but cut in all the right places that accentuate his frame. From his long legs to his back to his arms, the blonde fighter is a sight.

And his presence is daunting. At least in the ring, anyway. Kageyama has thought on several occasions that if Tsuki were to play volleyball, he would be a force of nature; an iron wall or impenetrable shield. It’s the way his eyes take in every movement of his opponent like he calculating every possible outcome in seconds. It’s very impressive, and Kageyama can appreciate talent like that. 

Kageyama hops up the steps of the gym once he arrives and heads through the doors. A few of his teammates are already there setting up, and Kageyama acknowledges their greetings as he continues toward the locker rooms.

Inside, he slips out of his casual clothes and into his practice shorts and t-shirt. He sits on the bench once he’s changed and stuffs his airpods in his ears, opening the app that has his playlists of ASMR sounds. He chooses one to play as background noise while he goes over plays in his head, different scenarios his team may come across in a match, all in an attempt to get in the right mindset.

The door to the locker room opens, Iwaizumi walking in, followed by Oikawa with his nose in his phone and a weirdly genuine smile on his face. Iwaizumi looks irritated, which is not unusual, as it’s more often than not Oikawa that causes the wrinkles in his forehead and throbbing vein at the side of his head.

Kageyama used to have a serious crush on Iwaizumi during middle school and through most of his first year of high school. Iwaizumi is amazing; he’s intelligent without being arrogant, confident of his skill without being cocky, and just plain handsome with arms that still make Kageyama warm in dangerous places. He’s also extremely kind, always looking for ways to help his kohai and never abusing his power as senpai—unlike some (Oikawa).

“Hey Kageyama-kun,” Iwaizumi greets as he shuffles to a stop in front of his locker. 

“Hello Iwaizumi-san,” Kageyama returns with a stiff bow, as awkward as ever. He straightens up, cringing at his own incompetence, and replaces and organizes his things so he can head out to the gym to warm up.

“Goddammit, Shittykawa! Can you stop fucking sexting your fangirls or whatever and change for practice?!”

Kageyama nearly drops his own phone that he was shoving into his bag when Iwaizumi’s voice practically shakes the walls.

Oikawa sighs, obviously inconvenienced, but not looking up from his phone. “Calm down, Iwa-chan,” he sings in that way he does that makes Kageyama want to poke him in the eye. “For your info, it’s not a girl.”

“I don’t care if it’s your dead grandmother, get your ass moving.”

Oikawa gasps, “Iwa-chan, nana would be appalled.”

Iwaizumi huffs digging through Oikawa’s gym bag and shoving Oikawa’s practice shirt in his face.

“Change.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes but complies, pulling off one shirt and putting on the other. “As I was saying, I was talking to Tetsu-chan.” 

Kageyama tunes out his useless prattle, closing his locker and intending to leave. However he’s stopped in his tracks when Iwaizumi asks, “You’re talking about the boxer?”

Kageyama turns back to his locker and opens it, pretending to search for something as he eavesdrop.

“Yup, I’m going to see him this afternoon.”

“You would do something stupid for a guy. Why would you want to hang out with a bunch of criminals?”

“Don’t be so judgemental, Iwa-chan. You say that but you’re a brute and you still get laid.”

Iwaizumi glares at his smug best friend, but chooses not to encourage his insults.

Kageyama’s heart rate has picked up. Oikawa is going back to the gym? Kageyama has barely been able to think of anything else besides the dingy basement and boxing ring. Not too mention  _ him _ .

“Is there something you need, Tobio-chan?”

Kageyama flips around feeling caught in the act, like a kid caught stealing. “N-no, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes, staring at Kageyama like he’s trying to see into his soul, and Kageyama stands there sweating while he does it. Not finding anything, Oikawa resumes changing his clothes.

Kageyama sees a proverbial light at the end of a tunnel, a reason to return to that gym and, perhaps, get another glimpse at Tsuki as he’s training. But the light is slipping quickly away as Oikawa finishes and heads out to the gym with his towel and water bottle.

Kageyama isn’t sure what to do. The last time he tried to ask something from Oikawa, he’d nearly gotten a black eye, something he’s still not sure what he’d done to deserve. However, he’s been wanting to go back since he left. It’s like an itch he can’t scratch, a desire that keeps him awake way later than he’s used to as his mind swirls with thoughts and images all relating to a snarky blonde fighter.

“Um, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa pauses at the door and leans back, turning his head so he can pin Kageyama with an inquisitive gaze. Iwaizumi stops, too, though his eyes have a far away look, and he’s most likely thinking of practice or school or some other important business.

“Hm, what is it Tobio-chan?”

Kageyama fidgets with the hem of his shirt, nerves overwhelming him, but he’s committed to this now, so he trucks on ahead, for better or worse.

“Can I go with you?”

Oikawa blinks at him and tilts his head. “Go with me where?”

“That gym. I’d like to go too.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything at first, something odd passing over his eyes before being blinked away. He opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by Iwaizumi, “I don't think that’s a good idea. Kageyama is just a kid, he doesn’t need to be around people like that.”

As much as Kageyama respects Iwaizumi and his protectiveness, Kageyama is a bit offended. There is only a two year age difference between them.

“I’m not a kid,” Kageyama grumbles, “And I’d like to go, please.”

Iwaizumi looks like he wants to argue but Oikawa finally chimes in before he can, “Why?” His expression is carefully blank as he stares at Kageyama.

Kageyama shrugs, uncomfortable with admitting his reasons so he settles for saying, “It was interesting.”

Kageyama keeps his eyes down as Oikawa narrows his.

“Fine.”

Kageyama’s eyes snap up and Oikawa’s expression is a little suspicious, but otherwise unconcerned. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, does not approve and says as much.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Oikawa.”

Oikawa just shrugs in reply, turning to push his complaining best friend out of the door. “It’s fine, Iwa-chan. Don’t worry so much.”

“You don’t worry enough, Shittykawa.”

Kageyama doesn’t hear the rest of the argument, too caught up in his excitement. He’s going back, and for the first time in his life, he can’t wait for practice to be over.

If the rest of the team thinks he’s weird for smiling through practice, Kageyama doesn’t mind.

  
  


**&&&**

It doesn’t take as long this time to figure out where they are going. Oikawa has better directions thanks to his new friend, and within an hour after practice ended, Kageyama is following Oikawa down a familiar set of basement steps.

Just before crossing the threshold, Oikawa gives Kageyama a pointed look over his shoulder, a reminder of their earlier conversation.

_ “Tobio-chan, I don’t know why you want to come, and I don’t care, just as long as you stay out of my way.” _

_ Kageyama stares at Oikawa as they wait for the train. He feels the vaguely threatening warning is kind of unnecessary since he has no interest in Oikawa’s business at the gym.  _

_ “Yes, Oikawa-san,” he says, mostly lost in his own thoughts. _

_ “That’s my good kohai. I don’t need you being a cockblock.” _

Kageyama had watched as Oikawa was checking himself out in a nearby window, fiddling with his hair and checking his teeth. He’d rolled his eyes thinking Oikawa was always looking for an edge and was probably just using this as an excuse to network. Kageyama would have followed his lead if he wasn’t so focused on that Tsuki guy. He’s fascinating and...powerful, and a part of Kageyama wonders if there is something he could learn from him.

Oikawa disappears inside the gym and Kageyama descends right behind him, passing the threshold and immediately reminded the place smells of old ass, dirty socks, and mold. However, the stench is quickly forgotten as he searches the room for a familiar head of blonde hair.

When his eyes land on him, Kageyama finds him doing pull ups, and he can’t stop staring as he watches the way his biceps contract with veins bulging. Tsuki has been there for some time because he’s worked up a good sweat, his shirt soaked down the front and his blonde hair almost brown with perspiration. Kageyama’s mouth is dry, his tongue thick and sticky. He swallows repeatedly, trying to force the production of saliva. Tsuki just keeps going and Kageyama counts twelve reps since he walked into the gym. He is not weak by any means and works out regularly, but even he would find it difficult after fifteen.

Kageyama doesn’t know how long he stands there watching, but Angry-cigarette guy nearly sends him into cardiac arrest when he yells, “Tsukishima, I told you! You have to eat! You won’t improve if you starve your body, it needs the calories and protein for stamina in matches!”

There is a low  _ tch _ , but otherwise Angry-cigarette guy is completely ignored. Kageyama finds this amusing, a small grin tilting the corner of his mouth as his gaze takes in the rest of the gym.

Kageyama looks at the practice ring where several people have gathered. Oikawa has made a beeline for them, pushing his way to stand next to the creeper who he now assumes is Tetsu-chan. Oikawa is giving him the same smile he bestows upon his fans, and he tosses his hair in a way that catches the light, making the subtle reds shine, the lovely cinnamon strands looking soft and enticing. Kageyama is mildly nauseous finally understanding that he’s here to  _ flirt _ , and it looks like it’s working because Tetsu-chan unabashedly stares at Oikawa like a hungry animal, that creepy grin still plastered on his face.

“Kuuuroooo-saaan!”

From the ring, an ungainly giant with large green eyes stretches his shoulders in one corner across from a very short and stocky blonde.

“Kuroo-san! Why do I have to fight Yaku-san? He’s tiny, what if I hurt him?”

The blonde, presumably Yaku, was passively watching Oikawa and (who Kageyama has now learned is actually  _ Kuroo _ ) while doing his own stretches. Now he turns sharply to the giant, more fierce than a demon as he stalks over to him, and flat out socks him in the gut. The giant doubles over, wheezing for breath, and Kuroo cackles like a hyena.

“Yaku-san, I’m pretty sure that shot would get you disqualified from a match.”

Yaku turns his ire to Kuroo, and Kageyama wonders if anything exists to wipe that smarmy smile from his cocky expression.

“He’s lucky my short ass managed to hit him above the belt.” Sarcasm is the flavor of Yaku’s words, the comment about his height dripping with poison. Kageyama has decided to avoid that guy as much as humanly possible.

“Try not to injure Lev too bad, please. He has a match next weekend,” Kuroo says. The words are spoken politely enough, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of authority that even Yaku seems to obey.

Yaku clicks his tongue, guilt crawling over his expression before he quickly covers it up with irritation as Lev stands back up with a grimace.

“Yaku-san is so sensitive,” Lev whines, and Kageyama can’t believe the stupidity of the giant. That punch looked like it really hurt, so why poke the tiny bear that can kick your ass?

Yaku sighs and backs up into his own corner. “You still have a lot of work to do, Lev, your stupid limbs tend to fly everywhere without thought. You need to practice control.” Yaku nods his head at Kuroo who rings a bell that signals the start of their sparring match. Lev lifts his arms and as soon as Yaku is within range, he swings wide with a hard right. Yaku ducks it easily enough and jabs him in the ribs with his left hand.

Kageyama is startled again when the noise in the gym increases tenfold as something red streaks by like a blast of fire, followed by something brown and blonde.

“Waaaa! Bokuto-san! Welcome back!!”

A short kid with untamed red hair is jumping around a large slab of beef with black and silver spiked hair. Though Big-and-Beefy looks nice enough with his large shining eyes and brilliant white smile, Kageyama thinks the red-headed kid is as dumb as Lev as he practically hangs off someone so scary looking. However, his attention on the odd pair is redirected to Tsuki— _ Tsukishima _ —who's finished with pull ups and is currently drying the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt. His stomach is on full display, and Kageyama tries no to stare too hard at the unobstructed view of well-defined abdominals. It aggravates Kageyama that he’s a little jealous, because no matter how he eats or exercises he still retains a little baby fat. Tsuki, on the other hand, clearly hasn’t an ounce of body fat.

It’s like Tsukishima can feel eyes on him, because he turns to look at Kageyama before he can avert his own and he kinda feels like a cornered animal. 

“Can I help you?”

Tsukishima’s voice is flat, almost bored, and there’s no emotion behind his light-colored eyes, no curiosity or irritation, nothing. Kageyama might as well be part of the bench he sits on. His mouth drops open, wanting to defend himself, but he really doesn’t know  _ why  _ he keeps staring. He does know that he doesn’t like the hollow feeling growing in his chest, and something about Tsukishima’s dispassionate attitude fills Kageyama with stubborness. So, instead of cowering in embarrassment and looking away, he stares defiantly into that blank gaze, a quiet challenge to see who breaks eye contact first. It’s not Kageyama. A moment passes and Tsukishima blinks, then turns away completely unconcerned. Seconds later Tsukishima’s fists drive into the tough leather of one of those heavy, hanging bags as he resumes training. 

Kageyama would feel smug in his small victory if he didn’t know that Tsukishima hadn’t conceded anything in their little game. He’d looked away because he didn’t  _ care _ . Kageyama knows he can be dense, but even he could tell that much. Yet, as infuriating as it was, he still found himself wanting to know more about the asshole. 

“Hinata, Noya, go change! You’re in the ring next!”

The group of people by the ring pulls Kageyama attention away from Tsukishima, and that red head and the shorter guy who followed him in go running into the locker room yelling indiscernible gibberish.

Kageyama rises from the bench and makes his way over to the group, standing off to the side near Oikawa. Since Lev and Yaku left the ring, Oikawa and Kuroo have focused on each other, standing close enough to be indecent with little touches and gross, teasing smiles passing between them. Kageyama scrunches his nose in disgust, knowing he’ll never scrub the sight of Oikawa licking his lips seductively from his mind. 

He’s not sure what to do now. Kageyama had come with the single purpose of watching Tsukishima spar but he’s training and he feels like a stalker hanging around the edges of the gym watching him. Even if he’d like to continue doing so.

“Who’re you?”

Kageyama looks to his left, then down, until his eyes land on fluffy red hair and big brown eyes that stare back up at him expectantly. He‘s uncomfortable with the question, not sure how to answer and not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea.

Wait. Why would that matter?

“I-um...I’m here with Oikawa-san?”

He’s not sure which one this is, Hinata or Noya, but the guy tilts his head and blinks up at him, curious. He glances briefly back at Kuroo and Oikawa, then back at Kageyama, that bright gaze drifting up and down his body. It’s not sexual at all, more robotic scanning or appraising.

“You’re here to hit on Tsukishima? I saw you watching him.” He says eventually, and Kageyama is too shocked to object. “That’s kinda lame, this is a gym and people are train-“

Kageyama shakes his head, offended someone would think something so asinine. “What?! No! Why would I…?”

The kid pauses and blinks at him. “Oh. So you’re here to train, then?”

“No, dumbass! I’m...I’m just...here.” Something about this kid irks Kageyama, his very existence is a personal taunt meant just for him.

“Hinata! C’mon, you gotta beat me this time!” 

The kid (who’s name is now Hinata) whirls around, imaginary ears perking and tail wagging because he’s been asked to play. He saunters off, forgetting about Kageyama, which grates on his nerves. Kageyama moves closer to the ring, curious to see what the moron can do.

Both Hinata and the other guy—Noya—already have their hands wrapped and do a few stretches before shoving the mouthguards in place and pulling on their gloves. 

Kageyama glances across the gym at Tsukishima who’s jumping rope with his back facing them, not interested in the least in the sparring match about to happen. Kageyama, however, finds jumping rope to be extremely fascinating at the moment. But, then the bell rings, and surprisingly, he finds his attention focused on the fight anyway. He would never have guessed he’d find someone else he’s interested in watching. However, the feeling is different with Hinata, Kageyama finds him irritating and he’s not sure if he wants the moron to win or lose.

The fight is definitely different from Tsukishima’s, and even from that giant Lev’s sparring match with Yaku. Tsukishima’s match was very controlled, between two obviously seasoned fighters. Lev and Yaku’s match was between a teacher and student. This new fight, though, is like watching two wild animals brawling over scraps. Noya delivers his attacks with precision, but they come at Hinata hard and fast. Hinata is just as quick as Noya, if not a little faster. He is all natural ability and blind instinct, and both are aggressive. 

Yet, no matter how well Hinata reads Noya and no matter the speed of his fists, Noya manages to make more contact with Hinata than vice versa.

Two minutes into the fight and the bell is rung signaling a stop. Angry-cigarette guy is leaning on one of the ropes and Big-and-Beefy stands just behind him, arms crossed over his massive chest, watching with a grin on his boyish face. Two other beefcakes stand close by, one holding a clipboard and he’s writing stuff down. He’s shorter than Kageyama, but not by much, though way stockier. His thighs are so muscular you can practically see the shape of the muscles through his track pants, and Kageyama wonders if he’s ever killed a man with them. 

The guy standing next to him is almost half a head taller and almost as big and beefy as Big-and-Beefy. His expression is serious when he looks around the gym or watches the fighters in the ring. Oddly, when he glances at Thick Thighs, his light-colored eyes soften.

The bell is rung again, and Hinata and Noya resume their match. Just like the first round, both men go at each other with a feral playfulness. Noya is a pretty versatile fighter; he relies on defensive movement mostly, but will attack with ferocious glee suddenly, throwing his partner off balance as his style is unpredictable. Hinata, though, is all offense, offense, offense. He punches with a single minded mission that Kageyama doesn’t understand. Kageyama doesn’t understand boxing period, and honestly, before he found this gym, what he did know consisted of words like “graceless” and “barbaric”. It didn’t have the finesse of volleyball, the precision of split second decisions. At least, that’s what he always thought. 

Watching Hinata battle Noya, he begins to wonder if he wasn’t wrong. Volleyball may have seven people to track on the opposite side of the net, but there were also six people to support you when you fail to catch something. Boxing was just one on one, but every mistake—every defeat—was your burden alone to carry. That was a terrifying concept for Kageyama, and that was why he couldn’t understand why Hinata consistently left himself open to attack as he concentrated all his effort on trying to make contact with his opponents body.

“Hinata! Defend dammit!” Angry-cigarette guy yells, but Kageyama recognizes the look in his eye, the glee of discovering a chink in your opponent’s armor, and the vicious need to exploit it. Hinata runs from a left jab/right cross combo and Noya chases him swinging for a left hook. Kageyama rolls his eyes because Hinata hasn’t ran from a punch the whole match, why is he starting now?

His eyes grow wide with shock when Hinata pivots, the hook brushing merely centimeters from his face. He twists his right side as Noya retracts his fist, ready to throw his next punch, but Hinata is already swing his own with a right upper-cut straight to Noya’s chin. His teeth clack together in a way that makes Kageyama’s jaw  _ ache _ . Hinata grins in victory, lowering his arms, but Noya quickly shakes off the pain before launching himself at Hinata with a two consecutive left jabs and a right cross. Hinata can’t even deflect before he’s knocked on his ass.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the match and Kageyama doubles over, clutching his stomach as he heaves with unrestrained laughter. Hinata lies on the mat, stunned, until Noya helps him up, then he turns to Kageyama, volcanic rage burning in his eyes.

“Oi, asshole! What’re you laughing at?!”

Kegayama can't answer him yet, still trying to suck in precious oxygen. Noya glances at him, bemused, and trots off to the side of the ring to talk to Angry-cigarette guy.

Hinata stomps up to Kageyama’s side of the rings, his expression twisted in anger and his face red from exertion and embarrassment. “Hey, dickwad! Shut the fuck up!”

“Watch your language!” Angry-cigarette guy yells and is ignored. He grumbles something about immaturity and children, but Kageyama and Hinata aren’t listening. Kageyama clears his throat and straightens up, unimpressed with the tiny fighter’s posturing. He smirks at him, feeling a little more like himself since he walked in to the gym to be snubbed by the blonde bastard.

“You suck at this,” he says.

Hinata’s mouth drops open in shock, his big brown eyes even bigger with indignation. He recovers fast enough to loudly growl, “What the hell would you know, stupid?! You a fighter?! Wanna go?!”

Kageyama fosses his head, dislodging the stray hairs in his eyes as he sneers at Hinata from the other side of the ropes. “I play volleyball,” he says, squaring his shoulders with pride. Whatever new respect for boxing he’s gained, Kageyama will always think volleyball is better. “I’m a setter.”

Hinata clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, bet I’m a better boxer than you are a volleyball player!”

Now Kageyama knows that’s not true. But it doesn’t matter, you can’t compare apples and oranges, “Dumbass, that doesn’t even make sense. They’re two different sports.” 

“So?! I’m still better than you!”

“Doubt it.”

“You two are useless.” Kageyama’s head snaps around, following the voice. His stomach drops when his eyes find Tsukishima and his disgusted expression. “Can you calm down, some of us are actually training? Your eagerness is unnecessary.”

“Aw, c’mon Tsuki. They’re just passionate,” Kuroo says, still hanging out by the ring with Oikawa. Big-and-Beefy has joined them, along with a very pretty, raven haired fighter. He watches the spectacle with no expression and keen green eyes.

“Yeah, beanpole! At least I like fighting.” 

Kageyama’s attention comes back to Hinata as snickers come from two other fighters standing near the back corner, pausing their training to enjoy the entertainment.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, “Talk to me when you’ve won as many fights as I have, Shrimp.” 

“There’s always room for improvement, Tsukishima. You’re no better.” That comment came from Thick Thighs whose whole affect is patient and calm, yet he exudes so much authority, Kagayama wants to stand at attention and call him ‘sir’.

Tsukishima’s lip curls at being called out and his vexed gaze lands in Kageyama. Kageyama is frozen under that burning look, a shiver running from the top of his spine right down through his toes. Oddly, he feels his dick twitch in his shorts, a sensation he seriously has no intention of examining.

“What?” Tsukishima snaps at him. “Haven’t you had your fill of staring at me?”

Kageyama’s mouth opens and shuts and opens again in a fair impression of a suffocating goldfish. His face heats up and he knows he’s blushing, which only makes it worse.

“I-I...um...u-uh…” Wow. Way to go Kageyama. So articulate, much smart.

Tsukishima snorts, rolling his eyes. “You and the Shrimp share one brain cell. Seems neither of you can string together a coherent sentence.”

Beside him and still in the ring, Hinata begins hollering. “Fuck you, Tsuki! You’re such a dick! And stop calling me Shrimp!”

“Oi! Don’t compare me to that moron! I’m just curious.”

“I’m not a moron, moron!”

“Hey! That’s enough! Train or get the fuck out!” Angry-cigarette guy bellows, gray smoke billowing over his head in a way that reminds Kageyama of a pissed off Thomas the Tank Engine. It would be humorous if he wasn’t mildly afraid.

“Tch, whatever,” Tsukishima says, and Kageyama glances back at him. “Just stay out of my way.”

Kageyama intends to indulge him. Who needs that kind of negativity in their lives? He has more important things to think about, to focus on, and Kageyama has already given way to much time and thought to the leggy blonde, with his ice cold eyes, and the personality of a shark.

Kageyama has full intentions not to return to the gym. There’s no point.

Why does that bother him so much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and Kudos. I could use the pick me up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few hours late but here. Enjoy.
> 
> Thank you to stacysmash and littlemisstpk for beta-ing this fic! They are life savers!

Aaaand he’s here again. What the hell does this kid want?

Tsukishima walks into the gym, jerking the strap of his gym bag higher up his shoulder as he glares forward, refusing to make eye contact with him. The kid. _Kageyama_ _Tobio_.

Tsukishima barely acknowledges Kuroo or Kamasaki as he practically stomps toward the locker rooms. He feels a bit childish in his attitude, but can anyone blame him? He has an important match coming up, and for the last month he’s been distracted by blue eyes and a resting bitch face.

Tsukishima shoves through the door to the locker room, dropping his bag on the floor in front of his locker. He plops down on the bench, head in his hands, and sighs. It’s not like he can say anything, really. For one, it’s a public gym, and for two, though Ukai would throw the kid out if Tsukishima asked, he knows that would be a dick move. And yes, normally, dick moves are what he’s good at, but most everybody who trains here have grown to like the moody teen, and Tsukishima does not want to incur any more negative opinions about his person than he already has.

He has to train here. Plus, most of these people are his friends, some are like family. 

Though he’d die before admitting it.

Tsukishima ruffles his hair before shoving his fingers through the blonde locks, straightening out the unruly mess he made. He hates this. 

It’s not as if the kid bothers him, per se, but he’s  _ always  _ staring. At Tsukishima specifically. With these intense, steel blue eyes that make Tsukishima feel like he’s being picked apart layer by layer. It’s unnerving.

That’s it. The kid  _ unnerves  _ him.

Tsukishima just doesn’t know  _ why  _ the kid has taken an interest in him. At least, he chooses to ignore the most obvious reason. But it still doesn’t make sense, the kid is a volleyball nutcase; Tsukishima’s heard him talk about the sport like it is a divine gift bestowed by the gods. Their respective athletic interests are on two different spectrums, so what could the kid possibly glean from  _ gawking  _ at him whenever he shows up?

“Your number one fan is here.”

Tsuki looks up and glares at Konoha, who walks into the locker room hefting his own heavy gym gear. The blonde grins at him as he passes by, and Tsukishima proceeds to ignore him in favor of changing into loose shorts and sleeveless t-shirt.

“So what’s it like?”

Tsukishima sighs, the sound drowned out by locker doors and rustling clothes. He doesn’t feel like indulging whatever it is that Konoha is asking.

“C’mon, Tsuki. What’s it like?”

“What’s what like, Konoha-san?” Tsukishima’s shoulders are tense as he gathers his things and he can hear the mocking tone in Konoha’s voice, he knows what’s coming, and he knows he might as well get this over with. 

“What’s it like having a cute kid fawning constantly over you? He’s cute, right?”

Tsukishima stares at Konoha, deadpan expression revealing exactly how he feels about it, then he turns on his heels and walks out of the locker room without looking back, it’s not worth it just to see the stupid smirk on Konoha’s face. And people think  _ he’s _ a prick.

Tsukishima supposes most people would be flattered to be the center of someone’s attention. He doesn’t have time for it. Tsukishima just hopes his asshole personality will keep the kid at a distance because he seriously doesn’t want to deal with broken-hearted teenagers.

“Hey Tsuki!” Bokuto calls by the heavy bags. Tsukishima nods at him as he makes his way across the gym to where the double bag is strung up. He’s not scheduled to spar until Tanaka gets off work and he plans to get in a bit of foot work until then.

He drops his training gloves, a towel, and water bottle on the bench, along with his phone and wireless earphones for the moment. He busies himself with wrapping his hands when a small crowd of people gather near him, Kageyama taking a seat on the bench next to Tsukishima’s things. Tsukishima makes a point of not looking at him, despite the burning gaze of blue eyes.

“Tsuki, it hurts that you don’t say hi.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, still wrapping his hands. “Hello Kuroo-san.”

“What about me?!”

“Piss off Shrimp.”

“Oi! Don’t be a bastard!”

“What about Kageyama here? He came to see you, it’s not nice to ignore your fans.” 

He hears Kageyama fumble his denial and the tone of Kuroo’s voice makes Tsukishima want to turn around and punch him, but he curbs that instinct in favor of not wanting to end up on his back with a broken nose. Kuroo has taught Tsukishima a lot--he’s grateful for the success he does have because of it--but Kuroo can still whip his ass any day of the week. Tsukishima bites back a sigh and glances at the kid.

“Hey,” he mumbles. Kageyama’s face is bright red, enough to rival Hinata’s crazy-ass red locks, and Tsukishima can’t help but watch from the corner of his eye as Kageyama’s expression melts into shyness. His eyes flicker to his fidgeting fingers in his lap and back to Tsukishima repeatedly.

“Hn,” is all he says in reply and Tsukishima snorts. Kageyama blushes harder, to the point Tsukishima worries he’ll stroke out. He finishes wrapping his hands and snatches up his phone and earbuds, turning to the group. Konoha has joined them, and Kamasaki is there in all his muscular glory, grinning like a fool. 

Where is Daichi to distract his boyfriend?

“What do you all want?” He asks, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“Oh come off it,” Kuroo says. “We’re just wondering how you’re feeling?”

“Tired.”

Hinata lightly punches him in the arm. “Stop it. You know what he means.”

Tsukishima stares him down until he hides behind Bokuto, then turns back to the rest of the group. “I’m fine.”

“You know what they say about ‘fine’, right?”

“Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional,” Bokuto helpfully supplies. Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

Tsukishima catches Kageyama glancing between them confused. Konoha sees him too.

“He’s got a match this weekend,” he informs Kageyama, whose eyes grow wide before locking on him. Tsukishima internally screams at Konoha.

“Not just any match,” Says Kuroo, and Tsukishima cringes.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he stresses. “I just want to train.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kuroo says. “You know we’ll be there to support you, right?” Kuroo moves out of the way, shooing some of the others back.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tsukishima says with a shrug. “You know I’ll lose, it’s inevitable.”

“Don’t say that! You can beat him this time, you just need to believe you can!” 

Tsukishima levels his gaze at Hinata, one that pointedly says, 'gross'. He’ll never understand the Shrimp’s bottomless optimism. 

“I never said I wouldn’t try, idiot. But I will definitely fail if you all don’t leave me alone so I can  _ train _ .”

Kuroo chuckles, “C’mon boys. Let’s skeedaddle before he decides to use us as punching bags.” As Kuroo ushers everyone away, he turns back to him and asks, “You still sparring today?”

“Hn.”

Kuroo nods and walks off.

Tsukishima is stuffing his earbuds in when Hinata yells out of nowhere, “Bakayama! You should come to Tsuki’s match this weekend!”

Tsukishima can’t help the way his shoulders hunch slightly. It’s not really a big deal, but he still imagines punching Hinata square in the face.

The thought of the kid watching him get pummeled knots his stomach up.

It shouldn’t matter.

It does.

Tsukishima attempts to ignore everyone. His eyes still look for the kid. Kageyama is by the ring with Hinata and Kuroo, one hand rubbing at the back of his head.

“Y-yeah. I’d like that.”

Tsukishima wishes he had a logical explanation for why his stomach swoops and why his heart skips a beat or two. 

Hinata and Kageyama carry on their conversation, albeit quieter, and Tsukishima turns on his music, driving out the rest of the noise.

It doesn’t matter if the kid shows up or not.

It shouldn’t matter.

** **

**&&&**

** **

They are early, about forty-five minutes or so. Kageyama arrives with Oikawa, meeting Kuroo at the entrance where he leads them through the growing crowd down the convention center’s corridors and down the steps to the floor seats. Being a fighter has its perks, apparently.

The convention center isn’t as large as the Orange Court where Kageyama plays at nationals, but it is big enough, housing several hundred people. Kageyama kind of feels on display sitting directly across from the ring which sits in the center of the main floor. He has to look up to see into the ring from his seat as if he’s looking up at a throne. It’s strange the way it makes him feel.

The fluorescent lighting is too bright as they wait for the fight to start. The noise of the growing crowd buzzes in his ears, grating against the back of his mind, yet it’s not as loud as the thrumming of his pulse. The only thing he can compare this sensation to is the way he feels before an official game. It’s the thrill of competition, the desire to come out on top the victor. This isn’t even his battle but the electric feeling burns within him all the same.

Large speakers hanging from rafters in the center of the ceiling above thump out the music they always play for any kind of sports related event—that old, nineties-era pop-rock or alternative—that supposedly fuels the fire of impending competition. It only adds to the anxiety Kageyama feels, though he doesn’t know if that nervousness is actual nerves or excitement or a bit of both.

He’s been looking forward to this night all week, unable to concentrate in class and barely able to hold it together in practice. He’s only seen Tsukishima spar, and he knows from experience that an official competition is a different sort of energy than any practice. He’s curious and anticipating seeing the reserved and...compelling blonde fighter in his element.

Kageyama sits in the seat by the aisle, Hinata next to him, then Bokuto, Oikawa, and Kuroo finishing up their group. He’s slumped in his seat, feeling a little out of place as he usually does in social settings, while the rest of the group laugh and talk beside him.

“And Kenma was so pissed he created a specific character for him just to kill off.” Kuroo is entertaining the rest of the group with an anecdote about one of his friends. Kageyama is only half listening, though the parts he does catch are actually quite funny. 

Oikawa laughs along with everyone else before asking, “So who is Kenma?”

“He’s like my son,” Kuroo answers, grinning with an impish gleam in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that to  _ him _ ,” Hinata giggles. “You’d be the next in the game to get killed off.”

“Kenma would never,” Kuroo argues with exaggerated offense.

“Yes he would,” both Bokuto and Hinata say together, laughing.

Kuroo rolls his eyes and says to Oikawa, “No, actually we’re like childhood friends. It just  _ feels  _ like he’s my son.”

“Only ‘cause you nag him,” Hinata says.

“I do not  _ nag _ . I  _ encourage _ .”

“You nag,” Hinata whispers under his breath, and Kuroo tries to reach past two people to get at Hinata who starts yelling and laughing, nearly backing himself into Kageyama’s lap to get away.

“Get off, dumbass!” Kageyama hollers, shoving the shorter fighter. Hinata loses his balance and falls to the floor with a broken squawk. Everyone laughs and Hinata glares up at Kageyama.

“So does he not come to fights?” Oikawa asks once everyone settles down and Hinata has taken his seat again.

“Not really,” Hinata answers, “He only watches Kuroo’s matches.”

“Aww…” Oikawa teases and Kuoo mimics him, smirking. He throws an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder, pulling him into his chest before planting a kiss on his cheek and whispering something in Oikawa’s ear that Kageyama is grateful he can’t hear. As it is, he slumps further into his chair, embarrassed by the display.

Things carry on like that for a bit while they wait, the suspense of the moment building in Kageyama until he feels like he’ll burst. Then the hum of the crowd increases, everyone’s attention turning to the corner entrance to Kageyama’s left. He doesn’t really notice until Hinata nudges him with an elbow. He frowns at Hinata but leans around to get a better look at whatever it is Hinata wants him to see. Kageyama sucks in a sharp breath as he watches Tsukishima descend the stairs flanked by Ukai (he finally learned Angry-cigarette guy’s name) and Takeda (Tsukishima’s manager who Kageyama met only a week ago). Kageyama’s whole body erupts in goosebumps as his hair stands on end and an unfamiliar—yet familiar—warmth rolls down his spine to settle deep in his belly. Tsukshima looks...intimidating, a titan come for battle. His expression is dead serious with knitted brow and his mouth pulled into a tight line. He doesn’t wear his glasses, he never does for a fight, and his honey colored eyes glow gold with the fires of determination. His outward countenance is not nervous, but he isn’t easy to read anyway. It doesn’t matter, Kaegayama is nervous enough for the both of them. 

Tsuki trots down the stairs to the ring, he’s wearing a shiny black robe with the logo of the gym on the back and chest, the hood over his head. It’s open at the front and his entire muscular torso is on full display. Other than that all he has on are loose, black shorts with orange stripes down the sides and black boots that look like high tops but...aren’t. He’s using black hand wraps as opposed to the old white ones he wears while training, and he carries orange gloves around his neck. They look very different from the ones he’s seen him train in.

Tsukishima doesn’t stop until he’s climbed the ring and pushed through the ropes, and Kageyama rubs sweaty hands over his jeans. He can’t stop staring. Kageyama looks up at him, his eyes following him as Tsukishima paces back and forth, a lion in a cage ready to be let loose on his prey. A shiver runs the full length of Kageyama’s spine, and he has to breathe in deep and let it out slowly. He wants to get up and move around, discharge the buzz of electricity beneath his skin, but he absolutely cannot drag his gaze away from the man above him. Kageyama sits forward instead, elbows on his knees and hands steepled in front of his face. One leg won’t stop shaking, and Hinata keeps sending him curious glances that Kageyama steadfastly ignores. 

The crowd surges again, this time for a new face. Kageyama stretches his neck to look beyond the ring, watching Tsukishima’s opponent strut down the steps. Most of the crowd is chanting the newcomer’s name, and Kageyama feels a senseless possessiveness toward Tsukishima, as if somehow the crowd has betrayed him.

The fighter crawls between the ropes and into the ring and Kageyama finally gets a good look at him. He’s dressed similarly to Tsukishima, except in white and black. He wears an undercut with his fringe swept to the right, grayish with brown underneath. Where Tsukishima’s skin is decorated with monochromatic artwork, his opponent’s skin is smooth and clear. Kageyama can’t tell if he has piercings, but Tsukishima has removed his, so he assumes the other would have too if he did. 

He’s as cut as Tsukishima, maybe a bit more muscular, though he’s a few centimeters shorter for sure. His face is passive, like Tsukishima’s usually is, with sleepy eyes that look bored at first, but Kageyama can see how sharp they actually are. 

Kageyama doesn’t like admitting it, but the other fighter is pretty...attractive. Not that looks have anything to do with talent.

Kageyama directs his gaze back to Tsukishima and his eyebrows drop further as he studies him. Outwardly he looks as cool as always, except after all the time Kageyama has spent at the gym, he’s beginning to learn some of the snarky blonde’s tells. At least he likes to think so.

Tsukishima may look unbothered, but there is a subtle edge to the way he stands with his back to his opponent. His shoulders are a little too tense, a little too square. He makes a point to ignore the opposite corner of the ring. He seems very focused on Ukai in from of him as he gets last minute pointers, but his eyes have a distant feel to them. 

Kageyama thinks he may be succumbing to performance anxiety, he’s seen it before in players and teammates who have a tendency to doubt their abilities. Kageyama can’t begin to understand why, he’s seen what Tsukishima can do. Well, at least in the practice ring.

Not long after the fighters enter the ring, some guy in an expensive suit that Kageyama assumes is important takes hold of a microphone that’s lowered from the ceiling. 

_ “All right fans, i~it’s showtime! We are set for the revenge match of six rounds, Tsukishima Vs. Miya for the Super Middleweight Division! Introducing to you first on my right, the challenger out of the red corner, wearing black trunks with orange stripes and representing Karasuno Gym Inc, weighing in at 76 kilograms, with twelve wins, 8 knockouts, and 2 losses, and here to claim second ranking in his division and the once top contender for the title, let’s welcome Tsukishima Kei!” _

Tsukishima makes a 360 degree turn with one glove in the air, his face as benign as usual, and Kageyama wants to smile at the introduction, but he notices the subtle wince when the announcer states “once top contender”. He leans into Hinata to ask, “What did the announcer mean by  _ top contender _ ?”

Hinata glances at him, his brown eyes darting right back to the ring as he answers in a voice loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd, “Not too long ago, Tsuki was in the top five and working his way up the ranks. But he couldn’t get past Miya.”

Kageyama glances up at Tsukishima who ignores the crowd, before catching Kuroo staring at him, his expression hiding his thoughts behind dark eyes. Kuroo breaks eye contact when Oikawa says something to him, offering his companion a small smile, then turning back to the ring. Any other questions are drowned out by the continued commencement.

_ “...defender on my left in the blue corner, hailing from Inarizaki Group Llc, and wearing black and white, weighing in at 76 kilograms, the current top contender for the Super Middleweight Championships with twenty-two wins, 16 knock outs, and one loss, people! Give it up for Miya Osamu!” _

The conventions center practically shakes with the noise of the crowd. Kageyama looks around, his frown deep as he takes in other fans and wondering if they know something he doesn’t. A part of him wonders how they can ignore Tsukishima.

_ “Once again, here is here is our referee in charge to give the instructions, Taniguchi Eizo.” _

Kageyama turns back to the ring and listens raptly, not having any clue what to expect from this match. A short man in a button down and slacks steps into the ring and makes his way to the middle. The fighters shed their robes (Kageyama tries to focus instead of ogling the bare skin of Tsukishima’s torso) and don their gloves, getting last minute points and encouragement from their coaches and whoever else is part of their entourage. The first time Tsukishima looks at Miya is when they are standing across from each other, his back to Kageyama so he can’t make out his expression. The referee places a hand on each of their stomachs as if he’s preventing them from attacking the other and the announcer curls his arm around his head to bring the microphone to the referee’s mouth. 

_ “All right gentlemen, you received your instructions in the locker rooms, and I expect a good, clean fight. Protect yourselves at all times, obey my commands at all times. Now bow to your opponent.” _

Tsukishima and Miya exchange bows, and Kageyama can just see Miya’s bored expression past the people surrounding them. 

_ “Touch gloves.” _

They bump their gloves, and everyone backs off, those not fighting leaving the ring with the exception of the referee, and the fighters returning to their respective corners. It takes a few more moments, but the referee lifts his hands signaling them to wait, the tension in the convention center increasing ten fold, the fighters taking their stances, bouncing on their toes, knocking their gloves together in anticipation. Kageyama feels like his heart stops.

Then the bell rings, once, the  _ kong _ -sound louder than the crowds yelling, right in Kageyama’s ear and restarting his heart, pulse racing from zero to sixty in one beat.

They don’t charge each other like he’d expected. Both fighter approach cautiously with gloves up, circling each other like alley cats. Miya taps Tsukishima’s gloves with his as he circles him;  _ tap tap tap _ , pulling back each time, calculating eyes locked with Tsukishima’s. He twists his left side, adding power behind the next jab he throws. Tsukishima tries to counter by pulling back and firing off an attack, but Miya sticks his punch, posting it so he’s pinning Tsukishima at arms length. They’ve come full circle and Kageyama can see Tsukishima’s face now, and his expression is frustrated as Miya hinders his ability to counter attack. Tsukishima makes a decision to go over the arm with a right cross and Miya pulls his left as Tuskishima swings knowing it’s too late for him to block, and Miya swings forward with a right cross, yet Tsukishima is quick enough to deflect the punch so it grazes his temple. It was still a good move on Miya’s account and he knows it, the corner of his mouth curling in a grin. Tsukishima backs off, taking up his defensive stance once again. 

The first round is two minutes and forty-five seconds of some of the most intense moments of Kageyama’s life. For every hit Tsukishima takes, Kageyama feels it in his chest, flinching and digging his blunt nails into the palms of his hands as he leans forward in his seat. Tsukishima is a defensive fighter, for sure, but there’s something more strained about him than usual. He’s defending more than he would during practice and missing opportunities when Miya leaves himself wide open. It’s not like him, but Kageyama admits he doesn’t know enough about the sport to draw any definitive conclusions, and it really frustrates him. However, he doesn’t want to start asking Hinata questions for fear he might miss something. And also, because Hinata is an idiot and has a tendency to pepper his explanations of even the simplest things with gibberish.

When the bell rings signaling the end of the round, Kageyama takes his first real breath. His senses are in overdrive, everything feels like it’s in technicolor, he can practically taste the sweat of the fighters in the ring, his clothes feel too tight and too rough, and the crowd around him sounds too loud. Kageyama is wound so tight he’s gonna snap beneath the pressure, and he’s not completely sure he’s going to make it to the end of the match.

Tsukishima is sent to his corner to get a sip of water and towel off some of the sweat. His left eye is slightly swollen from a hit he took, but looks none the worse for wear. It was a rough start, and Kageyama is hoping that he was just warming up, getting a read on his opponent. He nods along to whatever Ukai is saying, and then the bell is ringing again.

** **

**&&&**

** **

Tsukishima makes it six rounds, but Kageyama can tell his energy is waning. He’s held his own up until now as far as Kageyama can tell, getting in some good shots that stole the breath right out of Kageyama’s lungs and stoked a simmering fire just below his skin that’s left him half hard all night. But, it looks like Tsukishima is reaching his end.

Despite his struggle, Tsukishima is...beautiful, graceful, even as he takes hit after hit. But he’s lagging, a piece of machinery running down and losing its momentum. Kageyama can’t tell if it’s on purpose or exhaustion, but he’s been on his feet with his other supporters, trying his hardest to exude encouragement as he’s too shy to yell it like the rest. Especially Hinata beside him who hasn’t stopped screaming for two rounds.

Yet, it’s not enough. Tsukishima misses a block and takes a straight punch to his jaw and drops to the canvas. He’s not out, but he’s down, and he looks wrecked and tired. Kageyama can’t decide if he wants to stroke his face and tell him it’s okay, or slap him and tell him to get up. 

Miya is sent to a neutral corner while the referee counts, giving Tsukishima some time to rise. Ukai is at the ring in front of Tsukishima, pounding the canvas with his fist and yelling things Kageyama can’t make out over the noise of the crowd, his friends’ screaming, and his own heart beat pounding in his ears. But he can see Tsukishima’s expression. He can see the resignation and knows without a doubt that Tsukishima has just given up.

The referee ends the count, bounding over to Miya and lifting a gloved hand into the air. He’s won. He doesn’t even look excited about it. He’s just beat Tsukishima in this fight and all he seems to work up is indifference, and it pisses Kageyama off.

Hinata nudges him and Kageyama turns finding him looking somber. “We’re gonna head on out, maybe hit up a bar for a drink. You in?”

Kageyama glances back at the ring. Miya is gone already, but Tsukishima is being helped out of the ring and toward the stairs. He looks back at Hinata and says, “We’re not old enough.”

Hinata shrugs, and his flat expression looks weird on his normally grinning face. “There are certain places you can get away with that.”

Kageyama frowns, he doesn’t want to go and do something so illegal. The potential of being caught is too high and he’s unwilling to put his career at risk for something so ridiculous as drinking. Kageyama looks back at the stairs where Tsukishima exited.

“He wouldn’t want you to wait,” Hinata says, reading Kageyama’s mind. He still scoffs, refusing to admit the moron was that perceptive. Besides, Kageyama knows Tsukishima wouldn’t want to see anyone. Kageyama feels the same way, not wanting to face anyone after losing a game.

Still.

Hinata shakes his head and Oikawa asks if he’ll be okay getting home on his own. Duh, he’s not a child. Hinata waves as he follows the rest of their group out of the convention center, leaving Kageyama standing in a rapidly emptying building. 

With one last look at the ring, Kageyama heads up the same stairs Tsukishima takes, entering a hallway devoid of anyone. From further down, he hears the familiar sound of a locker door closing, as well as the unintelligible murmurs of voices. A maintenance man walks by from the right and Kageyama stops him to ask if the fighters’ locker rooms are down the hall. 

“Yeah, but you’re not allowed in without permission. But, they’ll leave by the back way that leads to the alley. You can reach it if you take that hall and leave by the exit at the end.”

Kageyama nods and bows, thanking him, and wondering if it’s normal to give strangers information like this. Maybe the guy thinks the fighters can take care of themselves if he means them any harm. It doesn’t matter, though, Kageyama is just grateful.

He decides to head in the direction he was told and stops by the bathroom on the way. It’s empty, like most of the building, and Kageyama rushes to pee so Tsukishima doesn’t leave before Kageyama can find him. However, he can’t help but replay the fight in his mind and his body, it seems, is not feeling the same urgency as his cock grows hard by the time he’s finished. Kageyama snorts in disbelief, wondering what he could have come across recently to get him so worked up.

Kageyama considers stuffing himself back in his shorts and forgetting about it, but that could be a bigger pain if it persists, which he feels might be the case. ANd the last thing he wants to do is meet Tsukishima with a hard on. With a look around the bathroom, even knowing he’s alone but wanting to be sure, Kageyama runs a dry hand from the tip to the base and back up again. The friction makes him hiss and he almost licks his palm before he realizes he should probably wash his hands before sticking it in his mouth. Instead, he works up a bit of spit and lets it fall to his shaft, sighing as he smoothed over his stiff length and easing the way. He squeezes his hand, making it so he has to push the crown through the hole his thumb and forefinger make, and his hips jerk with the sensation.

Kageyama has never done this before, committing such an act of public indecency, but he finds it adds to the warmth building between his legs. He briefly wonders if Tsukishima has ever done this and he gasps as his arousal spikes, his cock jumping in his hand at the thought of the blonde fighter.

Oh. Well, now some things are making sense.

Too invested in his own pleasure to stop now, Kageyama puts one hand on the wall above the urinal and leans into it as he strokes himself in earnest. He allows his thoughts to roam; cold, golden eyes burning a hole in him, a curl of lips into a sneer, sweat rolling down a broad back, his hands dragging down a defined chest, a tall blonde sinking to his knees. Kageyama moans and fucks himself faster. He imagines Tsukishima wrapping his angry mouth around his hard sex and he’s cumming before he can even work out a proper fantasy.

“A-ahh... _ shit _ !” He cries out, the hand on the wall curling into a fist and dragging his blunt nails along the brick.

He cums hard, the thick fluid spilling over his cock and hand like the slow crawl of lava, some shooting from his slit to splash the inside of the urinal. He strokes himself through it until he’s milked himself dry, then stares at his hand that’s covered in his cum.

Shame sets in, and not just because he’d used Tsukishima as spank material, but also because he barely acknowledges Kageyama, definite evidence that whatever interest  _ he _ has in Tsukishima, it isn’t returned. 

Kageyama sighs and thinks about just going home. Tsukishima won’t want to see him and Kageyama isn’t even sure he could look him in the eye right now. He tucks himself away with his clean hand and washes both in the sink. Once in the hall he intends to leave, but something keeps him frozen where he’s at, staring down the hall that leads to the alley. He knows that Tsukishima will be unhappy with his appearance, but he can’t seem to make himself walk away. He finds himself walking toward the exit to the alley before he’s even made a definite decision, pushing through the door under the exit sign.

The alley is empty, lit only by an overhead lamp with a broken glass cover. Kageyama walks toward a nondescript steel door and leans against the brick wall across from it. There is the smell of food from a nearby restaurant and his stomach complains about being empty. He’s also feeling a bit nauseous, his pulse rate a rabbit running at full speed, and when the door opens, his heart practically stops. Tsukishima steps out, he looks beaten and not just physically. Kageyama stands up, his shoes scuffing the pavement, and Tsukishima turns when the noise draws his attention.

He doesn’t look too bad, his right eye is a bit more swollen than earlier, and there is a purplish bruise forming around it and the bridge of his nose. Other than that, there are no other noticeable physical wounds. He’s dressed in baggy sweats and a t-shirt with a track jacket over top, his gym bag hanging from his shoulder and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He raises a blonde eyebrow at Kageyama who’s currently unable to utter a single word.

“What are you doing here?”

Kageyama flounders, Tsukishima’s expression growing more impatient as the seconds tick by. He finally manages to say, “Good effort, no wait...um...good job?”

Tsukishima stares at him in silence for so long, Kageyama feels his anxiety practically becoming its own person in the interim. Then Tsukishima snorts. “Was I so bad that you have to question your own compliment?!”

Kageyama knows it was a rhetorical question, but he can’t stop himself from the verbal diarrhea. “What?! No! I j-just mean, you’ll get it next time.”

“Will I?” Tsukishima snaps, his golden gaze burning behind narrow eyes and his expression twisting into a sneer. “And you’re what? An expert in boxing after all of two weeks? You just  _ know _ I’ll win?” Tsukishima rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Run back to your court and hit your balls. Stick to what you do know, because you don’t know anything about this.”

Kageyama stares at Tsukishima, jaw dropped open in shock. The nervous feeling that rushed through his bloodstream is replaced with ice that freezes his veins, hurt turning into a lead ball that sinks into the pit of his stomach. His mouth snaps shut and he lowers his head with his hands balled at his side. Warmth builds behind his eyes and his vision goes blurry as he stares at his feet.

In front of him Tuskishima sighs, and for a half second looks genuinely guilty for his harsh words when Kageyama glances back up at him through wet eyelashes. But exhaustion and disappointment are shadows behind his eyes and he stuffs his hands back in his pockets. 

“Go home kid,” he says as he turns and walks away, “You don’t belong here.” 

What he means is Kageyama is not wanted here. He knows this, he expected this. But the rejection still hurts all the same. 

Fat tears fall onto the broken asphalt of the alley, soaking the ground in front of Kageyama’s shoes. He wipes at his face with the back of his arm and looks up just in time to catch Tsukishima’s silhouette as he disappears into the crowd. 

He  _ is _ a really stupid kid. Did he honestly believe that bastard would be interested in him, a dumb university kid?

Kageyama shuffles out of the alley, turning in the opposite direction Tsukishima went. The salt from his tears dry as he heads toward the train station, the skin on his face feeling tight. He walks with his hands in his pockets, one hand fingering the torn end of the ticket to the fight. Kageyama sighs and yanks the ticket out of his pocket and as he passes by a trash bin, he tosses the piece of paper toward it without stopping. The ticket misses its mark and flutters away, caught by the light breeze that blows through the city shrouded in evening light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I have been having connectivity issues. Here is some fun to be had at Tsuki and Kageyama's expense. 
> 
> Kenma is savage.
> 
> Thanks again to stacysmash and littlemisstpk for beta reading. You guys are life savers.
> 
> Also, life has been kinda hectic lately and I haven't made as much progress in finishing the story as I would have liked. I will try my hardest not to be late on the next update. Thanks for hanging in there!

Shimada Mart is a quaint little market on the first floor of an old business office turned apartment building. It isn’t big by any standards, but sells good, quality foodstuffs and some household and personal items. Tsukishima has been working there since he was eighteen, having gotten the job through his best friend, Yamaguchi. Tsukishima also rents one of the apartments above the store; a small, two room loft. It’s not much, but Tsukishima has never required a lot to be content and he’s grateful that it takes him less than two minutes to get to work from his home. 

This morning, Tsukishima picked up a shift when Yamaguchi called frustrated that one of the two teenagers they have on staff called off again. Tsukishima doesn’t mind, his training schedule has eased up some while he heals after his last fight, and he could use the extra cash. He spends his morning stickering grocery items with a pricing gun, a job that requires more muscle memory than concentration, which is unfortunate for him. Without more intensive work to distract his mind, Tsukishima finds it wandering, unfortunately, to Kageyama. 

He feels guilty. He feels guilty because he knows the kid was just trying to be nice and as usual, Tsukishima was an asshole supreme. It irks him, though, because he shouldn’t _ have _to feel guilty. He never asked for some kid to crush on him, and he was ultimately doing him a favor. Tsukishima is honest enough to admit that he isn’t boyfriend material, not just because of his crappy personality, but also because he doesn’t have time.

Also, Kageyama is a kid. A cute, eighteen year old kid, but a kid nonetheless.

Okay, so he’s a little more than cute. Tsukishima has eyes, goddammit, and he’s mature enough to objectively admit that Kageyama is kinda...hot, but whatever. He’s too young.

Still, despite justifications, Tuskishima cringes every time he thinks about Kageyama and his teary blue eyes. 

Tsukishima pauses labeling the fruit to rub over a spot on his chest that aches. It may be a spot over his heart, but he thinks it’s more likely a spot where he took a hit from Miya. Regardless, he tries to push out memories of fat teardrops splattering the ground in front of Kageyama as Tsukishima effectively crushed his little soul.

_ Why am I such a bastard? _ Goddamnit, because it would have been more cruel to give the kid hope when there wasn’t any! For fuck’s sake, he needs to forget about Kageyama and get back to work. Which he does for a few minutes before the blueberries distract him, reminding him of blue eyes and sending his mind right back to memories he’s so not interested in dwelling on.

Tsukishima drops his arms and sighs, big and heavy, rubbing that spot on his chest again. 

“What boy has you all twisted up?”

Ugh, he does not need this right now. His shoulders hunch as he tries to ignore the voice of his best friend but it’s persistent, like it’s owner. And unsurprisingly, Yamaguchi stands beside him, leaning on the fruit stand with his arms crossed over his chest. He stares a hole in the side of Tsukishima’s face knowing his best friend can only hold out so long. However, Tsukishima is determined not to cave. He doesn’t need Yamaguchi’s teasing at this point in his life.

Tsukishima focuses in on the blueberry and raspberry containers, the sound of the pricing gun producing its little yellow stickers the only sound between him and Yamaguchi. Said best friend taps the fingers of one hand on his arm, impatient for Tsukishima to just spill it already. Tsukishima tightens the line of his lips in refusal.

“So stubborn,” Yamaguchi says. There is nothing accusatory in his tone, it’s more resignation and a hint of affection, because Yamaguchi knows not to take it personally. Besides, Tsukishima is well aware he has other...tricks to pull information from him. Because he’s also a bastard, and Tsukishima—unfortunately—loves him for it.

Yamaguchi walks away, an air of _ this is not over _ left to hang around Tsukishima like a cloud. He sighs again. He rubs his chest again. 

He needs a fucking beer.

Yamagichi leaves him be for the time being and Tsukishima manages to get some work done. He’s carrying stock from the back when he turns the corner down the snacks aisle and comes to a tripping halt, nearly dropping the boxes of cookies and chips in his arms. He just manages to get control of himself as one head of flaming red hair and another of inky dark strands turn toward him. Kageyama’s blue eyes land on him with wide eyed astonishment, then dart away to look at possibly anything else except the blonde fighter who stomped on his heart.

Tsukishima _ refuses _ to acknowledge the painful arrows of shame and disappointment that pierce his heart at Kageyama’s rejection.

“Tsuki!” The small and annoying one practically screams at him though there’s barely twenty feet separating them. “How are you? You should be resting up, Ukai will be pissed if he finds out you’re working and not healing.”

Tsukishima drags his eyes away from Kageyama’s deep frown, turning a scowl onto Hinata. “The adults actually have to pay bills, dipshit,” He snaps. Kageyama snorts and Tsukishima’s eyes flick up to him, his pulse skipping to find him struggling not to grin at Tsukishima’s sarcasm. 

“Oi!” Hinata hollers, offended. As usual. His shaggy red head waves violently as he glares at both of them.

“Don’t _ Oi _ me, Shrimp,” Tsukishima says, his voice regaining his usual impassive tone. “And use your inside voice, for fuck’s sake, it’s like you haven’t matured past five.”

If looks could kill, Tsukishima would be burning alive from the heated gaze of those angry brown eyes. “Whatever, sorry for being concerned,” Hinata mutters, turning back to the snack foods he was apparently there to buy. He continues to mumble to himself, and Kageyama sneaks a look back at Tsukishima, those blue eyes darting away as fast as they land on him. Tsukishima stifles a sigh. 

He’s startled by a hand on his arm. He looks to his right, then looks down at a customer, a middle aged woman, staring up at him. “Excuse me, could you help me, please?”

Tsukishima refrains from informing the woman that it’s impolite to touch people she doesn’t know and nods his head instead. She turns and he sets down the boxes he’s carrying so he can follow her. He glances back over his shoulder and Kageyama is staring at him. Of course the kid tries to play it off like it had been something else that caught his attention, but Tsukishima knew better. He tries hard to repress the grin trying to sneak its way onto his face.

He follows the woman to the meat coolers and has to listen to her drone on and complain about prices and such, as though he personally chooses how much to charge people for chicken liver. He’s barely listening and answering questions with only half the brain power it takes to carry on regular conversations, and he notices movement in the aisle behind the woman. Kageyama pokes his head around the corner, glancing at Tsukishima, before immediately turning his attention to a shelf of Lysol like he’s never seen cleaning supplies before. He continues to stare at the cans of spray, even going so far as to pick one up and read the back of it.

Tsukishima’s attention is pulled back to the woman when she asks a question he has to ask her to repeat. However, he can’t help but look back up at Kageyama who keeps throwing glances in his direction. Tsukishima attempts to restrain the grin that steals over his face, along with a small snort of amusement as he tries and fails to pay attention to the woman. Another glance at Kageyama and the kid is openly staring at him now with his mouth hung open and his cheeks a soft pink. Tsukishima doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid, but he has to hide his smile behind his hand, clearing his throat so as not to burst into laughter. The customer still yapping away at him would probably not find things as amusing as he does. Usually this kind of thing would irritate the piss out of him, being practically stalked at work, but Kageyama is so delightfully awkward Tsukishima can’t muster up the strength to care. Instead, when the woman bends over to pick up some other random piece of meat to gripe about, Tsukishima looks directly at Kageyama and tilts his head at the woman. He makes a frustrated choking gesture over the woman’s head and Kageyama snorts _ really _ loudly. 

Tsukishima nearly dies. 

The woman snaps upward like a rubberband looking at Tsukishima with confusion. Tsukishima can barely contain his mirth, his shoulders shaking violently as he snorts and giggles behind his hand and avoids looking at the woman. She flips around finding Kageyama with both hands over his mouth, his face beet red, and his eyes wide in horror. The woman looks at him, then back at Tsukishima, then back at Kageyama. When she turns back to Tsukishima, her face is twisted in anger, her eyebrows dragging so far down her face they practically make a ‘V’. Her mouth is pinched like she’s tasted something sour. She doesn’t say anything, just tosses the package meat back into the cooler before stomping away. Tsukishima loses it, bending in half and cackling while Kagayama begins to relax, his hands lowering as he splits his time between staring after the woman and staring at Tsukishima, face still a little pink. 

“Bakayama!” Comes the shrill voice of Hinata. He bounces up to Kageyama with stubby arms full of unhealthy snack food. Tsukishima stands up and wipes a tear from his face.

“And you have the audacity to criticize my eating habits, Shrimp? I would never put half that shit in my body,” Tsukishima says eyeing Hinata’s haul, his face still bright with amusement.

“Well, more for me then,” Hinata shrugs, sticking out his tongue like the child he is. He turns to Kageyama who’s still staring at Tsukishima and asks, “Are you about ready?”

“What’s going on here? I had a very unhappy woman chewing me out over rude employees. Tsukki, what’d you do?”

Tsukishima turns to his best friend, the smile from earlier still hanging off his lips. He tilts his head in Kageyama’s direction and says, “Ask him. It was his fault.”

“Oi! Bastard! You started it!” Kageyama can’t decide if his expression should be anger or fear or embarrassment, but all three emotions fight for prominence on his face regardless. It makes Tsukishima’s smile come back full throttle.

“Uh huh,” Yamaguchi says, and when Tsukishima looks at him he quickly schools his own expression knowing he was caught red handed. He might as well have been kissing Kageyama for all Yamaguchi will care. Not that Tsukishima would. Kiss Kageyama, that is. Why did he jump to that comparison?

Hinata tugs at Kageyama shirt sleeve. “C’mon, Kenma’s waiting.”

Kageyama looks at him and then back at Tsukishima. He turns to follow Hinata, reluctantly, and as he goes he throws one more glance back at Tsukishima. His cheeks and nose are flushed a soft pink and Kageyama looks at him with big, round blue eyes akin to Bambi staring at Faline when Spring rolls around. Tsukishima feels a little dumbstruck.

“Well, he’s certainly young.”

Tsukishima can feel the blood rushing to his face as he belatedly tries to cover his feelings with dispassion. “Fuck off, Yamaguchi. It’s not like that. He’s just some kid that stalks my gym.” Tsukishima tries to pour every ounce of irritation into his words, lacing them heavy with warning, and leveling his friend with a steady gaze.

Yamaguchi blinks at him. “Uh huh,” he says, completely unperturbed. He walks off past Tsukishima. “Don’t forget those boxes you left in the middle of the aisle.”

Tsukishima grits his teeth and internally swears. Yamaguchi will never let him hear the end of it now, regardless how often Tsukishima assures him he’s misunderstanding things.

Tsukishima goes back to the aisle where he left the boxes of snacks, stopping by the shelf of Lysol, straightening the one can Kageyama replaced. 

Tsukishima sure hopes Yamaguchi is reading things wrong.

Tsukishima’s chest hurts.

**&&&**

  
  


A few days after the match found Kageyama staring forlorn at a wall of knee pads. He used to enjoy this kind of thing, anything volleyball related really. But this morning, his hurt feelings kind of ruined the whole experience. So he ended up walking out of the store and straight into a bush of red hair.

He was too surprised to be irritated, even when Hinata started jabbering in nonsensical words, and before he really had time to process his circumstances, he was dragged off to god knows where.

God knows where just happened to be a small grocery where the bane of his existence apparently worked. Kageyama nearly choked on his tongue when Tsukishima popped up around the corner, muscular arms bulging through his tee shirt as he carried far too many snack boxes. Every angry thing he’d thought over the last forty-eight hours evaporated, his hurt feelings and pride sizzling away as he tried—_ god he tried _—not to stare over his drool worthy appearance.

_ Fucking bastard _ , he thought. _ Fucking prick _. But even all his inwardly spewed insults fell flat in his own mind. Kageyama didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew he didn’t want to never see Tsukishima again.

Tsukishima stared right back at him, then snapped at Hinata’s absurdness, and Kageyama reacted with amusement without meaning to, and his traitorous heart practically pounded a hole through his chest when he caught a glimpse of the pleased look in Tsukishima’s golden eyes.

After that, Tsukishima disappeared to help a customer, and against Kageyama’s better judgment (because he couldn’t be more embarrassing), he followed him. Kageyama knew he looked pathetic, following around someone who’d made it clear he wasn’t the least bit interested, but he couldn’t help it. He felt like he had a drum line beating odd rhythms behind his rib cage every time he saw the blonde fighter. His palms got all sweaty and always felt a little breathless, and he blamed it on fascination at first. But Kageyama was not completely stupid, contrary to Oikawa’s opinion of him. Kageyama recognized a crush when he felt it, and he wasn’t as opposed to the feeling as he probably should have been.

That was until the fight. Until Tsukishima trampled all over his feelings, stomping and kicking dirt over the flames of his affection. It was the first time since Kageyama acknowledged his feelings that he felt immature and unworthy.

And still, as his behavior in the store shown despite being rejected, he’d stalked an aisle nearby to just..._ look _ at Tsukishima. He hated how it felt like the asshole squeezed his heart in his calloused fist, yet he couldn’t walk away.

Of course, what did he do then? Embarrass himself further by snorting like a hungry pig. To be fair, it wasn’t his _ fault _ . He hadn’t been prepared for Tsukishima to interact with him, especially not to make him laugh by mocking his customer behind her back. It _ had _ been funny and he’d felt like he’d grown wings, Tsukishima was acting like they were _ friends _.

And knew the exact moment his life ended. The moment he was fucked for the rest of his natural life: Tsukishima smiled. He _ smiled _ . Not only that, but he’d laughed too. At Kageyama, yeah, but until then he hadn’t known Tsukishima was _ capable _of emoting more than disgust and boredom.

It was very near a religious experience, and if Kageyama could have—and it wouldn’t have gotten him killed—he’d have taken a picture.

Somehow, minutes later, he finds himself walking to some stranger’s house next to Hinata as if waking from a dream. The old Kageyama would have rather crawled into the sewers than be forced into some social setting he is unfamiliar with. This new Kageyama, however, is living in the clouds, still warm from the glow of Tsukishima’s laugh, and right now he can’t be bothered with social anxiety. 

His internal musings are interrupted when Hinata says, “Don’t mind his bitchiness, he’s actually a total softy. You just have to get through that bitter exterior first.”

Kageyama side-eyes Hinata. He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s not my business anyway.”

Hinata grins and shifts the bags in his hand to the other. “He does care, by the way. He’s just, I don’t know, scared, I guess.”

Kageyama, for a brief second, thinks Hinata is referring to him and his gut explodes with a weird fluttering sensation. However, he stuffs the hopeful feeling down, his conclusion a tad ridiculous in the face of his recent rejection. Still, the suddenness of the topic leaves him confused and he clarifies by asking, “What?”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Tsukishima, Bakayama. He’s...scared of fighting.” 

Kageyama can’t help but find that assumption ridiculous, and some sort of noise of disbelief escapes him as he says, “What?! Why?! He gets hit in the face on a regular basis. What could he possibly be afraid of?”

Hinata laughs, apparently genuinely amused and looking at Kageyama in the way that a parent would an ignorant child. Kageyama wants to poke him in his smug eyes.

“Getting punched in the face is nothing. Physical hurt is so much easier to get over than the stuff that rots you from the inside.” He sighs, turning his gaze forward as he continues, “Listen, this is what I was told. Tsuki has a brother who boxed, and real good fighter too. But somewhere along the way he plateaued and his career quickly tanked.”

Kageyama pursed his lips, immediately understanding. While they may fight on different battlefields, the fear of failure is all the same. “And that’s what he’s afraid of.”

Hinata smiles ruefully, “We all are, just Tsuki feels failure nipping at his heels constantly. He’s afraid that no matter how hard he trains, he’ll never be good enough. He loves boxing because of his brother…”

“But he’s gotta learn to fight for himself,” Kageyama finishes.

A few minutes later, Hinata is steering them toward an upper-middle income apartment complex. It’s really nice, with a modern design and electronic keypad outside the door. Hinata punches in some number and there is a click. He pulls open the glass door and holds it for Kageyama who walks through, looking around the small lobby in curiosity. There are mailboxes all along the left wall and a couple of elevators in the far wall across from the entrance. A long bench runs right down the middle and the right wall displays some pretentious abstract art.

Hinata walks past him toward the elevators, pressing the up arrow button when he reaches it. They’re both silent on the ride up—well, Kageyama is silent, Hinata hums some irritating tune he hopes won’t get stuck in his head.

The bell dings and the door slides open, and Hinata leads him down the hall to the last door on the left. Hinata doesn’t bother to knock, there is another keypad and he punches in another number, walking in as if he lives there.

“Wait, do you live here?”

Hinata looks back at him as he’s slipping off his shoes. He’s grinning, his eyes bright and a bit smug. “Kenma!” He yells holding Kageyama’s gaze for a blink of an eye before darting off into the interior of the apartment. He disappears through a door a few feet from the genkan, leaving Kageyama follow at a slower, more nervous, pace. He peeks around the edge of the door jam before entering with wide eyes.

The short, narrow, and sparsely decorated hallway belies the actual size of the apartment. He steps into the living room, his head and eyes moving constantly as he takes in the nearly wall to ceiling windows on one side and ridiculously large television mounted on another. An overstuffed couch sits adjacent to the television where Hinata is sitting beside a skinny boy with two-tone hair.

Hinata twists around to look at him, his smile brighter than the sunlight streaming through the windows. Kageyama actually squints and he really can’t say which caused it, HInata’s smile or the sun. Hinata gestures for him to join them and he shuffles over, taking a seat on the floor at one end of the coffee table. He narrows his eyes at the bag of snacks surrounded by torn packages of chips and empty cup noodle cartons, as well as half drunk water bottles.

“Kenma, this is Kageyama. This is the guy I was telling you about, the guy who hangs out at the gym and stares at Tsukishima the whole time.”

“Hey!” Kageyama objects, glaring at Hinata while his face burns with humiliation. Hinata ignores him.

“Kageyama, this is Kenma.”

“Hey,” Kageyama replies, and if he sounds like he’s pouting, well no one could blame him.

Kenma barely looks at him, giving a small nod of his head before returning to the handheld game he is playing. 

“What’s your interest in Tsuki anyway?” Hinata asks, breaking into a bag of chips and snatching up a stray controller. He nudges Kenma who gets up to dock the Switch console, and picking up another controller. The television is turned on, the Switch already booted.

Kageyama scratches his cheek, his face getting even redder. He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Hinata leans forward as Kenma quickly selects several options and ending up at the character screen. He’s picking out his character when he asks, “He’s hot though, right?

Kageyama feels light headed and he swears if he loses anymore blood to his face he might just have a stroke there in some stranger’s living room. “Yeah, I guess?” He says, unsure how to answer and feeling lame because internally he’s screaming like a teenage girl over a celebrity crush.

Hinata and Kenma start a game of Smash Brothers, and for a moment the atmosphere is actually pleasant. Kageyama watches them play, then he finds himself staring at the two on the couch. The tip of Hinata’s tongue sticks out of his mouth as he concentrates, yelling obscenities every time his character takes a critical hit or he gets knocked off the platform and he dies.

Kenma, on the other hand, is older than he originally thought. He has long hair which has been pulled into a messy bun, and it’s blonde with dark roots. As Kageyama observes him, Kenma sinks back into the couch cushions, or forces himself back into them, doing his best to use Hinata as a wall.

“He’s shy,” Hinata says just before he lets loose another string of creative cursing. Kageyama wonders if it’s standard for all boxers to be so vulgar.

“How did you two meet?” Kageyama asks, awkwardly trying to socialize while covering up that he was staring. He’s got to quit doing that.

Hinata keeps his eyes on the match as he answers Kageyama, “At the gym. I started boxing four years ago and met Kenma through Kuroo. We’ve been together for two of those years.”

“He means boyfriends.” It the first time since arriving that Kenma has spoken and it takes Kageyama by surprise. He looks to the blonde to find him staring back.

Kageyama isn’t sure what Kenma is expecting, it’s not like Hinata didn’t just out him. “Oh. So you are out?” He says, reaching for something to say.

Hinata glances at him, an action that costs him the match on television. “You aren’t?”

Kageyama shrugs, unconcerned. “It really hasn’t been a big deal before.”

“Before?” Hinata asks.

“He means before Tsukishima.”

For a moment Kageyama just stares at Kenma. When his statement processes, Kageyama’s eyebrows shoot practically off his head. “Hah?! No!”

Hinata turns to stare at him, head tilted and eyes widening like he’s just realized something big. “You like Tsuki?”

“No!” Kageyama yells, he doesn’t want to be made fun of for what essentially boils down to a high school crush. “He’s a dick! Why would I like that bastard?! Are you crazy?”

Hinata obviously doesn’t believe him and says as much with narrowed eyes, “Your face is awfully red.”

“Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” This time Kenma actually deigns to look at him, pinning Kageyama under his cat-like gaze. Kageyama might as well be wearing stripes and cornered by a spotlight. He hasn’t known this guy but five minutes and he’s already calling Kageyama out. Kageyama doesn’t even try to stop his face from slipping into a pout, complete with bottom lip jutting out. “Screw you guys.”

Hinata rolls his eyes with another grin tugging his lips. “It’s okay to like him, you know?” Hinata says, doing a poor job of comforting Kageyama. “I told you he’s a good guy. Even if he is a bit prickly around the edges.”

“I don’t like him,” Kageyama insists without conviction.

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

Kageyama sighs in exasperation. “I don’t. Besides, it’s not like he...I just annoy him.”

“Everyone annoys him,” Kenma states, returning to his game. 

Hinata giggles, “Yeah, once you get past his asshole facade, he’s easier to deal with.”

“No he’s not,” Kenma says blandly.

Hinata full on laughs, “No he’s not.”

Kageyama clicks his tongue in frustration. “Whatever. Do you ever win a game?”

Hinata scoffs, glaring at the television. “No one wins against Kenma.”

“Bet I could beat you,” Kageyama challenges with a smirk. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with video games, not having a lot of time for something so frivolous, but at this point he’s take whatever he could get to lead the conversation from himself.

Of course Hinata falls for his taunt. “Hah?! You’re on, jerk.” 

When Kageyama was feeling safe enough that the topic of Tsukishima had been forgotten, Kenma says, “You should go to the party.”

“What party?” Kageyama asks, taking a third controller when it’s handed to him. He looks at it like he’s meant to decipher hieroglyphics.

“Oh yeah! One of the guys from another gym is throwing a Halloween party,” Hinata adds with enthusiasm.

Kageyama wrinkles his nose, he doesn’t _ do _parties. Especially ones where he has to dress up. Kageyama is not the most creative person on his best day, and combine choosing a costume with social anxiety, and he’s looking at a bad day.

“No thank you,” he says. He’s not even going to bother considering it. There’s no way he’d go anyway.

“Everyone’ll be there, you should come,” Hinata says, turning to smile at him with eager encouragement.

Kageyama refuses to acknowledge the way his heart starts tap dancing behind his ribs. “Everyone?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Tsukishima will be there,” Kenma adds, this time a small smirk on his face.

“I don’t care about that!” Kageyama insists again. He leans over the table with his forehead pressing into the wood, maybe if he tries hard enough the table will accept him as part of itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos very much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is learning things about themselves. Unfortunately, it's not exactly good things...
> 
> Note: The end of ch. 4 mentioned a Halloween party. I got lazy and decided against the Halloween theme and it's just a party. Sorry for the confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yo!
> 
> Okay. Okay. Listen, Susan, listen. I know I said I would update every Friday. Y'all should know by now I'm a dirty, dirty liar. To be fair, being a single mom of two small demons while trying to renovate my house and work a fulltime job should be considered a good enough excuse as to why I am posting nearly a month late. Oops. Anyhoo, change of plans. I have now decided to post every two weeks on Friday. As you can see there are only four chapters left, so this shouldn't be a huge deal. I'm trying to give myself room to stay ahead of the schedule, but let's be real, if that actually happens the apocalypse is upon us. Really really, though, I have ch. 6 completed, it just needs editing. I am hoping that the new schedule will give me time to finish ch.7, especially since I have been looking forward to writing it since I started the fic. Okay, I'm done whining. Here's ch. 5. Enjoy!

Kageyama negotiates. He doesn’t want to go to the party, or, he’d prefer not to go. However, Hinata doesn’t drop it and Kageyama feels himself weakening under the idea of seeing Tsukishima again. So he negotiates; he’ll go if Hinata can tell him how to find videos of Tsukishima’s previous fights. If he has to suffer this party then he’ll be damned if he doesn't get something out of it in return.

Hinata pouts, but gives in relatively easily. And Kenma is VIP as Hinata is useless in assisting Kageyama with the videos. Apparently Kenma is the unofficial-official video editor. In his free time from work, Kenma edits the videos from various fighters’ matches, of both fighters from Karasuno Gym and their opponents, for study. He keeps backup files on each which makes giving them to Kageyama pretty easy. He saves several of Tsukishima’s fights—best and worst—on a thumb drive and just hands it over like it is nothing. Even refuses Kageyama when he offers to pay for it stating, “I have plenty more. They’re part of the job.”

When Kageyama leaves Kenma’s later that evening, he still has no idea what to think of the kid—_ man. _He is shy but blunt, barely looked at Kageyama all afternoon but called him out like they’ve been friends for years, and gave him the thumb drive without asking for anything in return. Kageyama is a little intimidated by him, but he likes Kenma, he thinks. 

**   
  
  
**

There is a week until the party and Kageyama spends his free time watching Tsukishima fight. He doesn’t know how Kenma was able to get such good video, as far as Kageyama knows, Kenma never shows up to any fights but Kuroo’s. However, the videos he watches are professionally done, getting clear views from various angles. 

It helps, too, because after watching several of them, Kageyama starts to pick up patterns in Tsukishima’s fighting style. Curious, he turns to the internet to educate himself on boxing rules and such, learning more than he’d ever thought he would about a sport that previously held the barest interest for him.

He learns that Tsukishima is a defensive fighter—something he already guessed—but also that he tends to lean toward psychological techniques, i.e. wearing out his opponent and frustrating them with tremendous defense techniques. That is, when he is able to stay out of his own head. In most fights, Tsukishima holds his own with a confidence that has Kageyama’s toes curling in his shoes every time he visits the gym. 

Kageyama knows that Tsukishima could do more to build his stamina and power; more than five rounds and he starts to drag, his hits slower. But Kageyama is also learning that boxing is as much a strategy sport as it is anything else. It’s requires you know your opponent, not just as your competition, but almost like an intimate friend. Kageyama has learned that Tsukishima’s confidence skyrockets when he outmatches his opponents in strategy, a chessmaster out maneuvering the opposition by knowing when and how they will strike, even before the enemy knows themselves.

This is the most apparent in a recent match against Kazumasa from Wakutani Southside Gym. Kageyama was riveted watching the recording. The Wakutani fighter was fast, tough, and seemed to have endless energy, and Kageyama worried about Tsukishima. Kazumasa’s defense was good and he relied on infighting, sticking close to his opponent, which sucked for Tsukishima with his long reach. 

However, Tsukishima never wavered, his golden eyes watching Kazumasa with rabid focus, his concentration sending small waves of electricity through Kageyama. But the thing that sent Kageyama over the edge—caused an explosion of arousal so hot he thought he’d burn alive with it—was the cocky smirk that signaled Tsukishima just called checkmate.

Kazumasa had been leading the fight, crowding and directing Tsukishima where he wanted him until the blonde fighter was against the ropes. Tsukishima spent most of the fight on the defense, getting in a jab here and there, but mostly he kept close to his own body, following his opponent like a puppet. It had been frustrating to watch as Kageyama was getting used enough to fighting that he could spot openings when they appeared. Kazumasa fell into this repeatedly, focusing on attack rather than making sure his defense was air tight. And it wasn’t like Tsukishima’s defense was bad, far from it. His was solid, deflecting and dodging with accuracy that bordered on an instinct that was nearly supernatural. But he _ was _on the defensive and missing opportunity after opportunity to shut down Kazumasa’s attacks.

Yet, it wasn’t until the fourth round when Kazumasa had him against the ropes and seemingly unable to escape that Kageyama realized Tsukishima had the generalship of the fight. Kazumasa had been led to believe he’d won, that he’d had Tsukishima over a barrel, and it made him sloppier and sloppier, until he lowered his guard enough that Tsukishima slipped right in. He was a Trojan Horse and the camera caught the moment he knew he’d won the edge over Kazumasa—the smallest tilt of mouth and a smug shine to his eyes. Then he’d ducked a jab, rolled them so he wasn’t trapped between Kazumasa and the ropes, and went in with two left jabs to the ribs and a power shot to Kazumasa’s jaw. The fighter dropped like a sack of potatoes, too stunned to get back up, and Tsukishima won the fight with a K.O.

It was no surprise that Kageyama spent that night fucking into his hand to visions of Tsukishima smirking, the blonde’s name on his lips as he came harder than he’d hand in his short life.

Still, Tsukishima is not infallible, and while he won a lot, he also came across plenty of opponents that cowed him. One fight in particular kept Kageyama up a few nights as he rewound the recording in his head. Tsukishima had fought a guy named Tendō Satori, and what should have been an easy win—Kageyama had looked up opinions about it and discovered Tsukishima had been slated as the winner—turned out to be an embarrassing loss. This Tendō guy had turned out to be extremely clever, and a trickster. He got into Tsukishima’s head and ruined him within two rounds. 

Watching Tsukishima fight the creepy red-head made Kageyama want to watch the fight against Miya again. In fact, Kageyama ends up watching all three of their fights, including the most recent one. He has to admit that his attention during the match had been mostly on Tsukishima, he hadn’t observed Miya to closely for obvious reasons. This time, though, he forced himself to focus on the other fighter, even as he dominated Tsukishima and made Kageyama want to look for every flinch. 

By the end of that last match, Kageyama thinks he understands Tsukishima a little better. He sees the self-doubt clouding his judgement and causing him to second guess his abilities. And it isn’t even that Miya is particularly better than him. However, the absolute self-assuredness he climbs into the ring with makes even Kageyama cringe with wariness, and he wasn’t even the one fighting him. It makes him think that this is one guy he’d hate to face across a net. However, in Kageyama’s opinion with the limited knowledge he has, he doesn’t understand why Tsukishima would be so intimidated by Miya. Yes, he lacks some of the power, speed, and stamina of the other fighter, but he easily makes up for it in intelligence. If anything, both Tsukishima and Miya were well matched, but for some reason, Tsukishima fought like he saw himself as _ less than _.

It makes Kageyama a little angry when he realizes it because he sees it as a waste of potential and time. In any sport, what is the point of walking onto the court, field, canvas, or wherever, only to doubt yourself? The odds of winning may be far less than one may hope, but believing in yourself and your skill will have a lot to do with influencing the outcome. Anything less and you’ve already lost before you’ve begun. And that’s what Kageyama doesn’t understand, because Tsukishima is obviously skilled with the potential to go far in his career, but he won’t get anywhere if he can’t recognize it himself. 

If he can’t stop living in the shadow of his brother’s failures.

**&&&**

Kageyama climbs into the little POS that is Kuroo’s car, squishing himself behind the driver’s seat and next to Hinata and Kenma, and throwing a glare at the back of Oikawa’s head because he gets to stretch out his legs. Apparently their destination is about two hours outside of Tokyo and Kageyama is gonna lose circulation long before they arrive. He’ll be lucky if he can walk later. 

“Why is this thing so far away again?” He asks, shifting to make himself as comfortable as possible. Kuroo puts the car into drive and the pathetic thing jolts forward, the engine clanking and rattling as it picks up speed. Kageyama grimaces, if the car was a live animal he’d advocate to have it put down out of mercy. As it is, he’s a little concerned that they won’t even make it to the party. At least he’d be able to work out the cramps already building up in his muscles. 

“You’re assuming this pile of shit will even make it to the party,” Oikawa says, giving voice to Kageyama’s concerns. Kuroo gasps in offense, patting the dashboard and cooing nonsense as if the car cares about their opinions. 

“I’ll have you know the old girl is sensitive and doesn’t appreciate your lack of faith in her ability to get us from A to B,” Kuroo retorts, narrowing his eyes at Oikawa for a brief second before turning his attention back to the road. Oikawa hides a grin in the sleeve of his sweater and Kageyama resists throwing up all over the backseat. 

“It’s being held at Himekawa’s uncle’s place, an old ryokan that doesn’t do any business any longer, which makes it a great place to throw parties.” Kenma doesn’t even look up as he answers, his focus completely on the handheld game he brought with him. Kageyama wonders how he’s so smart with his head always stuck in a video game. 

“Yeah,” Hinata continues, looking back at Kageyama. He’s leaned into Kenma, watching him play over his shoulder, the fingers of one hand resting between his boyfriend’s thighs and the thumb absently caressing Kenma’s leg. Kageyama blushes witnessing the intimate public display. “The local authorities don’t care much what we get up to as long as no one dies.” He shrugs with a grin. “It’s a good thing because Tsubakihara’s parties can get a little...wild.”

Kageyama frowns and Hinata elbows him. “Lighten up, Bakayama. It’s supposed to be fun.”

“Yeah...right,” Kagayama answers as he takes a deep breath. Parties are about as fun for him as as a root canal during an earthquake. He’s unsociable on a good day. 

“Don’t worry too much about Tobio-kun,” Oikawa says, turning in his seat to grin at Kageyama, “He’ll most likely find a dark corner to hide in the whole night.”

Kageyama flips him off as Hinata chuckles and Kuroo chides him with too much affection in his voice. Then Kuroo turns on the radio, turning the music up until it’s drowning out the anticipation and Kageyama’s anxiety.

They do eventually arrive at their destination in one piece, though Kageyama is numb from the waist down. When he exits the car, his legs nearly give out and Hinata laughs at him as he stumbles along behind everyone like a newborn baby dear. 

Kageyama takes in his surroundings. The ryoken is tucked into the woods down a well-traveled dirt road that he never noticed until Kuroo swerved onto it and threw Kageyama into the car door, his air momentarily cut off by the pressure of the two bodies beside him. The trees surrounding the ryokan block off the last of the setting sun’s light, throwing shadows over the property and increasing the feel of isolation. Kageyama understands now why Hinata said it is a good place for parties, he’d be surprised to find that anyone would even know this place existed at all. 

The inn is obviously old, weathered wood splintering in some places and paint peeling in others, but there is a sense of gentle love about the place because it’s obviously cared for. While there’s minor cosmetic damage to the old building, it still manages to be clean and inviting. Or it would be if it weren’t for the loud music and half drunk people stumbling about the property making Kageyama want to run in the opposite direction. 

Kuroo leads them all to the front door, dragging Oikawa behind him by the hand and greeting almost everyone he comes across. Kageyama hears the thunderous welcome of Bokuto as Kuroo presses through the crowd, and Kageyama takes a deep breath to calm his nerves as he follows on Hinata and Kenma’s heels.

It is almost an involuntary reaction to immediately seek out the tall blonde he’s so interested in, but he’s jostled in the crowd of people and his search is derailed as he tries not to curl in on himself protectively. God, he hates these things.

Oikawa isn’t wrong, Kageyama _ will _most likely hide in a corner for the evening. It’s a self-preservation tactic in uncomfortable situations, sue him. But Hinata seems to know what he’s going to do before the thought is fully formed because he grabs Kageyama by the wrist and drags him to the back of the lobby to the check-in desk that has been temporarily turned into a bar. 

Kageyama’s eyes bulge at the amount of alcohol displayed, both foreign and traditional. Ice chests sit behind it cooling drinks and providing ice for glasses. There is even a blender. Kageyama’s expression is still expressing shock when he looks to Hinata who’s nudged him with a cold bottle. Kageyama looks down at it, then back at the red head, feeling way out of his element. Kageyama has only ever drank alcohol during holidays, and even then it was minimal. Hinata doesn’t know that and raises a brown eyebrow at him, gesturing at him with the bottle. Kageyama hesitantly grasps the chilled glass.

“It’s okay you let loose once and awhile, Bakayama. It’ll help, I promise,” he says, leaning into Kageyama to be heard over the music.

Kageyama stares down at the bottle in his hand. _ It’ll help, huh? _ He glances back up to Hinata. He’s sipping from his own bottle and staring out at the crowd. Kenma is there with his own drink, a red solo cup of something, and he tries to drink it _ while _continuing to play his game. Kageyama sighs.

It’s not like it’s a big deal, right? He’s stuck at this party for fuck knows how long and at least if he hides in a corner, he won’t look like a complete loser. Besides, Hinata says if helps. Right?

Kageyama lifts the bottle to his lips and tales a small sip, just enough to taste. He wrinkles his nose as soon as the carbonated bitter fluid hits his tongue, glaring at Hinata who starts giggling when he notices Kageyama’s expression. Kenma is no better, the grin on his face suggesting he’s having a laugh at Kageyama’s expense as well, even if he can’t be heard over the noise.

“It tastes like shit.”

“Of course it does,” Hinata agrees, smirking at him, “It’s beer.”

Kageyama just looks at him.

“You’ll get used to the taste. Drink up, Bakayama, the evening is young.”

“Whatever,” Kageyama grumbles, tipping the bottle up and sucking down as much as he can before he can change his mind.

When he’s finished more than half the bottle, he looks over at Hinata and Kenma. They’re staring at him wide-eyed. “What?” He says. “It’s not as bad if you drink it fast.”

Hinata chuckles and shakes his head as Kenma shrugs and goes back to juggling his own cup and his game. 

“C’mon, YamaYama, I’ll introduce you around.”

“Oi! Don’t call me that.” 

Hinata ignores him of course and Kageyama follows him anyway. He’ll find a corner eventually.

Kageyama never finds a corner, but he does find plenty of alcohol. Hinata is right, drinks make this all so much easier. He’s had three beers and he’s working his way through his fourth, the bitterness of the alcohol giving way to the thick, heady flavors of barley and hops and hints of citrus and spice. Despite his first impression, the stuff is growing on him. _ And _ despite all his previous objections to drinking, both due to his age limit and strict diet, Kageyama finds letting loose occasionally isn’t as bad as he once thought. He doesn’t know if it’s his athletic build or what, but he’s not as drunk as he thinks he should be for his first time. At most he’s feeling extremely happy and _ way _less anxious, and that’s nice. Especially when he totters through a doorway into one of the rooms in the inn to find a group of people playing cards and among them is the blonde he’s been dying to see all night.

At some point, Kageyama had lost Hinata and Kenma, the former busy flitting from one person to another quicker than Kageyama could keep up. The latter disappeared not long after they arrived, drink and game in hand, obviously seeking out a private corner away from the crowd and noise. Kageyama isn’t surprised that Kenma’s introversion is as bad—if not worse—than his. He is surprised that Kenma came along anyway.

Regardless, Kageyama is eventually left to fend for himself, which didn’t turn out as bad as he’d once thought. Not with the beer he’s drunk warming his blood. A few times he’s even engaged in conversation with _ strangers _. Was the conversation awkward? Hell yes, but he’s done it. And now he’s leaning against a random door frame, giddy, as golden eyes look up and widen in surprise. Kageyama giggles quietly to himself before tripping slightly into the room, grinning at Tsukishima as he finds an empty seat.

Kageyama isn’t sure what the group is playing, but Kuroo is there too with Oikawa straddling his lap. When Kuroo isn’t playing his hand, he’s shoving his tongue down Oikawa’s throat, which in any other instance would make Kageyama gag, but currently he’s feeling a little jealous. He looks from them to Tsukishima who quickly avoids his gaze with pink dusted cheeks. Kageyama is too drunk to tell if it’s because of the horny duo or the alcohol free flowing through the building.

Not long after he sits down, there is yelling coming from somewhere else in the building. Not angry, thankfully, because it sounds like several people calling out in greeting, though it’s hard to tell with the music and distance. It doesn’t matter, however, because whatever caused it finds its way to the small gathering Kageyama has joined.

“The guest of honor has arrived!” All heads in the group turn toward the door as the prettiest man Kageyama has ever seen waltz’s in with a sway of narrow hips, dressed in a pork pie hat and leggings with a t-shirt that hangs just below mid-thigh and combat boots. He saunters past Kageyama, catching his eye with a mischievous wink, the mole beneath his left eye rising with the movement. The air he displaces is scented with a musky cologne and the soft undertones of clean soap. Essentially, he smells like sex. Looks like sex on legs. Kageyama grimaces, having no idea why he’s suddenly horny for a guy he’s never spoken to.

“Why do you always get to be the guest of honor?” Some guy with dark hair and scowl asks.

“Because you know you’re all waiting until I arrive with the goods,” he says, lifting a sandwich bag filled with some green plant-like substance that Kageyama is unfamiliar with. It’s obviously a good thing, because the whole table, with the exception of Oikawa, cheers. 

“And also because Suga’s the prettiest.”

Kageyama’s attention is pulled from Oikawa’s nervous expression, which is locked onto the baggie. He looks up and notices Mr. Trouble for the first time, the guy who hit on him the first time he found himself at Tsukishima’s gym.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick, Terushima , no matter how many times you flatter me,” Suga says with a roll of his eyes as he squeezes himself between Tsukishima and some girl, tossing his bag of stuff on the table and displacing a few flower cards. He tosses a small rectangular package on the table along with the baggie, rolling his eyes at Terushima’s pout. 

“You’re such a tease,” Tersuhima grumbles. 

Suga smirks, opening the bag and pulling out a sheet of paper from the small package. “You know it.”

“Um...Is this really okay?”

Kageyama was entranced by Suga deft hands as he started sorting a small bundle of the green plant he pulled from the bag. Something about this set of warnings in the back of his head, a faded memory from a class perhaps, but he was too buzzed from the alcohol to really place it. He looked up to his senpai at the strained lilt of his voice, furrowing his brow.

“You don’t have to participate if you don’t want,” Kuroo tells Oikawa, caressing his cheek with his nose. “It’s all in good fun, but no one is gonna pressure you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.” Several heads around the table nod in agreement though most attentions are focused on what Suga is currently occupied with. In the few seconds that Kageyama has looked away, he manages to roll what looks like a cigarette. 

“Marijuana!” He exclaims, feeling a little proud of himself that he finally figured out why the green plant in the baggie appears so familiar. His victory doesn’t last as he shrinks in on himself when a few at the table snicker. He looks at Tsukishima who’s looking at him like he’s grown an extra head.

“Who’s the baby?” Suga asks after running his tongue along the seam of the joint, and Kageyama glares at the pretty—but rude—man. Eighteen isn’t _ that _ young.

Suga presses the joint between his soft looking lips and grabs a lighter, the paper catching immediately and even across the table Kageyama can hear the hiss of it catching fire as Suga sucks in a lungful, holding his breath. He glances at Kageyama with a wink before passing the joint to Tsukishima, exhaling a stream of funky smelling smoke. 

Tsukishima’s eyes lock onto Kageyama as he licks his lips and begins sucking on the joint, and Kageyama is entranced by the plump lips curling around the tips of his thumb and forefinger. Kageyama’s eyes flick back to meet Tsukishima’s, eyes a heated amber in the low, smoky light of the room, and there is a distinct shiver that races down Kageyama’s spine, pooling heat in unnecessary places. Everything seems to come into hyper focus; the acrid, piney smell of the pot they’re smoking, the heat in the small hotel room, and the faded rumble of background noise from the party that sends Kageyama into sensory overload and making his feel fidgety. He wants to hide from the gaze that feels like it’s burning him alive, and he wants to drown in it at the same time. Kageyama wants to believe there is _something _behind that look leveled at him, but he has never been good at reading people, and after the blatant rejection, he doesn’t want to allow the little flame of hope grow. He doesn't want to _want _the asshole blonde who sees him as nothing more than an annoyance that follows him around, but Kageyama can’t _help it. _He’s been confronted by so few people in his life who captures his attention and he honestly doesn’t know how to deal with whatever this is he’s feeling about the blonde boxer. Tsukishima holds a breath for a moment as he passes the burning bud to the next person, breaking eye contact and ending the electric moment between them. Kageyama feels like a suffocating fish thrown back into the water, like he can _breathe _again. He also feels a little empty as Tsukishima’s attention turns elsewhere.

Kageyama startles when he’s nudged by the person to his right and finds the joint being handed to him. He leans back like it’s a snake about to bite him. There is another round of snickering as the hand holding it stretches across his personal bubble to pass it to the person on the other side of him. The joint makes it around the table, Oikawa declining to partake as well. There is an almost prayerful silence as everyone around the table relishes in the calming headchange that takes effect while the joint is passed along until it’s too small for fingers to hold. At this point, Suga snubs it out very carefully, placing the end of it back in his baggie. Kageyama watches the whole thing with a kind of disconnected fascination, confused that Suga seems to want to keep what looks to be a useless leftover. But who is he to judge a thing he has no interest in? 

“So why aren’t we playing strip poker?” Suga asks and the calm quiet is broken as the table descends into conversation, games, and playful arguing. 

Kageyama isn’t engaging really, more comfortable to just observe the goings on around him. Oikawa has returned to making out with Kuroo as the card game is mostly left abandoned. It’s weird to watch his senpai act so out of character, so unhinged compared to the careful facade he keeps at school and on the court. After a few moments where their make-out session seems to be intensifying, hands roaming almost inappropriately, Kuroo and Oikawa stand, and with no acknowledgement to anyone else in the room they abandon the group and disappear out of the door.

“Well, that was rude,” Suga says amidst the conversations happening around them. A few people laugh. 

“Jealous?” 

Kageyama turns toward Tuskishima, watching as Suga leans back on him from where he’s turned in his seat to face the girl next to him he was speaking with. He tips his head back to look into Tsukishima’s smirking face, hat falling from his head to reveal thick silver strands that seem to dance in the dim lighting. “You offering?”

Kageyama watches, heart rate steadily rising, as Tsukishima’s blown eyes flick to Suga smiling lips. He shrugs with an ornery grin. “Maybe.” He plucks Suga’s hat from his lap and shoves it into Suga’s face as Suga makes kissing noises at him. 

“No fair!” Terushima pouts again and Suga raises off of Tsukishima to roll his wide eyes at the bottle blonde. 

“Quit whining you big baby and grab the bong.” Terushima shouts with joy as he lunges across the room to do just that.

Tsukishima catches Kageyama’s eye and smirks. Kageyama’s stomach drops holding his gaze as Tsukishima leans over to whisper something in Suga’s ear. Suga’s eyes lid, the smile that spreads across his lips is salacious and he gazes back at Tsukishima through thick, dark lashes. 

Kageyama stands abruptly, his pulse racing and his heart sitting heavy in his chest. “Um...where’s the bathroom?” He needs to get out of that room, the small size and thick, stifling air making it hard to breathe suddenly.

Several people look up at him and Suga turns from Tsukishima, giving Kageyama a curious look. “Down the hall. Can’t miss it,” He answers.

Kageyama barely nods his head in acknowledgement before he rushes from them room, stumbling over his feet in his desperation to get free. Once he hits the hallway, he heads in the direction of the bathroom. He doesn’t really need to pee, but he couldn’t sit there and watch Tsukishima flirt with that guy. It’s not as if Suga didn’t seem nice, in any other circumstance he thinks he might find Suga fun to be around. Right now, all he feels is that little bloom of hope he had just minutes before wilting under the reminder that Tsukishima would never choose him. Kageyama stops a few doors down the hall to lean against the wall, bending over with hands on his knees as he tries to regulate his heartbeat. 

He can’t keep doing this to himself. He’s almost thankful that Tsukishima rejected him so bluntly, it gives him a reason to move on. It’s just difficult when things happen, like that time at the grocery store where Tsukishima actually treated him with friendliness. Kageyama knows he probably shouldn’t read too much into that particular interaction, even if that moment between them was the highlight of Kageyama’s week. Still, he can’t help but...want.

And that’s the kicker. Kageyama _ wants _Tsukishima. He wants that laugh directed at him, he wants the grins and smirks, and he wants him to look at Kageyama the way he looked at Suga. He wants Tsukishima to use those hands to tear him apart and put him back together. Kageyama wants so bad he feels out of focus and out of control. He wants so bad he follows Tsukishima around like a sad puppy eager and waiting for the attention of a master who doesn’t want him back.

Kageyama stands up straight, shaking his head to dislodge his spiraling thoughts. He’s become painfully aware that he is not drunk enough for the emotional rollercoaster he seems determined to ride. Pushing off the wall, Kageyama stalks back to the lobby determined to get just a bit drunker.

A little while later he’s stumbling more than he’s walking, and he wanders back to the room he vacated in such a hurry earlier. He’s drunk enough to wonder why he left in such a rush in the first place, his inebriated state clouding the memory of the heated look passed between Suga and Tsukishima. Kageyama doesn’t find him. Nor does he find Suga, but he shrugs it off as coincidence. He drags himself from the room to wander aimlessly around the party in search of his favorite, snarky blonde. He asks a few people as he goes, not getting any help, and a few times he’s waylaid by Hinata who’s so drunk he can barely stand up or a few people he’s sort have gotten to know throughout the night. He doesn't spare them much time as he has a mission to complete, his asshole waiting for him somewhere in the godforsaken building. Kageyama eventually meanders toward the stairs. The building is two floors and so far he’s only been on the bottom. The guest rooms down here are all open and filled with people in various states of inebriation. There are people dancing, talking in corners, smoking, or drinking and just quietly listening to the music. But Kageyama has checked all of these rooms and Tsukishima is nowhere to be found, so he determines he must have wandered to the second floor. 

It takes Kageyama a few minutes to make his way up the stairs as he keeps tripping over almost every step. He huffs in exasperation at his ineptitude, but he finally makes it to the landing without breaking a leg. There are as many rooms up here as there are downstairs, but several of them have closed doors. 

It should have occured to Kageyama—being at a party and all—that these closed off rooms may be presently occupied, but in his drunken state and naivete, he blindly heads down the hall, looking into open rooms as he goes. It darker up here, the majority of the party being on the first floor, so Kageyama makes his way a little slower in order not to face plant into the old wood flooring. The first door he comes to he tries the knob, but it doesn’t turn. He determines that it’s been locked and he doesn’t have a key, so he moves on. He’s so focused on his search he misses the soft moans coming through the door. He tries the knob of the next closed door and it gives. Kageyama swings it open and it takes him longer than it should to understand what’s happening inside. 

Kageyama blinks as he tries to process the activity, his eyes roaming the bodies writhing on the old futon on the stained tatami mats. Oikawa is naked and on all fours as Kuroo behind him—also naked—snaps his hips roughly against Oikawa’s ass. Oikawa’s screams of pleasure are muffled by the cock stuffed into his mouth, the other guy unfamiliar to Kageyama, not that he knows a lot of people. The guy is huge and...stacked. Perhaps bigger than Bokuto or that Kamasaki guy, with short hair that he’s unable to identify the color of in the too-dim lighting. 

Kageyama’s eyes widen in horror as the scene becomes clearer, and he should perhaps shut the door and go gouge out his eyes, but it’s like staring at an oncoming train that you can’t escape from.

“Fuck his pretty mouth harder, Ushijima,” Kuroo growls, shifting and slaming into Kageyama’s senpai a little harder, Oikawa squeaking around the obstruction in his throat. No one seems to have noticed him, and Kageyama finally regains the ability to move, closing the door quickly, but quietly. He backs into the wall behind him, his stomach turning. Of all the things he might see in his lifetime, Oikawa getting spitroasted was never _ ever _one of the things he considered as a possibility. Kageyama kind of hates his life in that moment. His search for Tsukishima is momentarily sidetracked as his mind tries to adjust to knowing he will never be able to look at Oikawa the same way again. He may have to leave the country, actually.

A noise from own the hall grabs his attention, and latches onto the distraction with a desperation of a dying man, turning toward it. It came from one of the rooms at the end of the hall, so he follows it, curious and desperate to think of literally anything else other than Oikawa on his knees…

Nope. Nope nope nope.

Kageyama finds himself a little more sober than he’d like to be by now and he’s less oblivious to the noises coming from the closed doors of the rooms. He crawls closer, his heart rate spiking again, and he should walk away, go back downstairs instead of creeping down the hallway of the sex floor like some old perv. He stops in the middle of the hall with that thought, intending to do exactly that and head back down to the party where the alcohol is.

_ “Tsuki…” _

Kageyama pauses, unsure if it was his subconscious speaking or an actual voice. His senses zero in on the room to his left, the last room on the floor, as he strains to hear the low, muffled noises coming from behind the closed door. Unthinking, driven by anxious curiosity and drunken boldness, Kageyama continues to the door, pressing close with his ear once near enough.

He doesn’t hear much but breathless moaning and heavy panting that’s nearly buried beneath his thumping pulse. His hands are beginning to sweat from how..._ concerned _ he is, his shoulders almost too tense. He tries to swallow, his tongue thick and throat dry. 

_ “Like that?” _

_ “Yesss...fuck…” _

Kageyama’s breath gets stuck in his chest, his lungs frozen. Tsukishima’s voice is nearly too quiet, but it’s unmistakable. As is Suga’s. Kageyama’s stomach drops to his feet and possibly through the floor. It’s like he can feel himself crack, the fine lines spreading through him like ice breaking apart. Whatever candle he may have held out for Tsukishima is utterly ruined in the wake of Kageyama’s heartache. He realizes now that he never stood a chance. 

But even as the waters of disappointment and grief rise around him, he can’t walk away from the door. Some part of him is convinced he needs to _ see it _. Because just hearing them isn’t enough torture as it is.

Slowly and with a shaking hand, Kageyama grips the door handle, turning it carefully. He pushes the door open just enough to allow him a visual of the room. It not too different from all the others except an old couch sits opposite the door, and that’s where he finds them, Tsukishima reclining with his pants around his ankles. Suga straddles his lap while Tsukishima’s large hands grip him at his waist and the back of one thigh. Kageyama watches how Tsukishima digs his heels into the floor, his thighs flexing as he rolls his hips up in meticulous and measured thrusts. Suga has ahold of him, using Tsukishima as leverage to meet his thrusts, and Kageyama can’t even be jealous they look so good together. He can only watch on, longing and sadness sitting heavy in his heart. 

Kageyama doesn’t understand what they’re relationship is, but whatever it is they’re enjoying each other in the moment. Tsukishima’s head is thrown as he gazed at Suga with lidded eyes. His glasses are gone and Kageyama’s eyes have adjusted enough he can see the whites of Tsukishima’s eyes as they bounce all over Suga while the smaller male undulates in his lap, silver hair bleached in the moonlight coming from the window. Tsukishima’s chin tilts as Suga leans in to kiss him, the sound of lips and tongues moving over each other accompanying the slap of skin and squeak of old springs.

Kageyama isn’t there long and deciding he’s had enough moments after he’s opened the door. He makes a move to close it, and he doesn’t know what catches Tsukishima’s attention, but he freezes partway through the action of backing away when Tsukishima’s pale eyes lock into him. Kageyama begins to panic, sure Tsukishima’s gonna flip his shit any moment. Yet...nothing happens. Kageyama stands there like he doesn’t know he has feet, gaze captured by the man staring blantantly back at him as he continues to fuck Suga. 

Kageyama doesn’t understand. Since he’s met Tsukishima, he’s been on this emotional rollercoaster of want and rejection, the flips and turns hitting him so unexpectedly, and he’s unable to catch up. All he knows is that the hurt he was feeling only moments before is fully overshadowed by the curl warmth that pools between his legs as those eyes set his blood on fire. Tsukishima watches him, his expression almost feral with hunger, and is it because of the man in his lap? Or is it because of…

No.

No no no, Kageyama refuses to entertain any more wishful thinking. 

But he wants. He wants Tsukishima to want him so bad he feels like he’ll crawl out of his skin. Kageyama’s grip tightens on the door handle as the couple race toward their end, Tsukishima still staring at him. Kageyama’s heartbeat synchronizes with the steadily increasing pace of their lovemaking, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as Tsukishima bites down on the junction between Suga’s shoulder and neck. Suga stiffens on top of Tsukishima, crying out with a shout as he comes apart, Tsukishima following seconds behind him and breathing heavily through his nose.

The tension between Kageyama and Tsukishima snaps when Suga’s able to move, leaning back enough to gather Tsukishima in a passionate kiss. Gold eyes disappear behind pale lids and Kageyama stumbles back, free of the spell that held him captive. He doesn’t even close the door, not caring if it draws attention to him, before he’s running down the hall and taking the stairs two at a time. He trips hitting the landing, catching himself against an unsuspecting partygoer who yells in surprise. Kageyama can’t even apologize, needing to escape the ryokan before he drowns. 

He hits the front lawn and crashes to his knees and sucking in harsh lungfuls of breath, his head swimming with drunkenness and humiliation. He can barely think, visions of Tsukishima and Suga dancing in front of his eyes. He feels hands on him and objectively knows someone is asking him if he’s okay, but Kageyama hasn’t enough cognition to answer and only throws their hands off, stumbling to his feet. He nearly face plants into the grass before he regains his equilibrium, walking blindly into the maze of vehicles littered around the property, ignoring the voice shouting after him.

Vaguely, Kageyama knows he has nowhere to go, stranded in the middle of nowhere with people he could not care less about. Kageyama opens the door of a random car, crawling into the backseat and laying down, not caring who it belongs to but needing some place that feels even moderately safe for him to have an emotional breakdown. Because once the door closes behind him, Kageyama’s eyes burn and his vision swims.

“Fuck!”

He curls up in the fetal position, burying his head in his arms and fighting against the torrent of emotion and tears threatening to overwhelm him. 

“Fuck!”

With one hand he rubs harshly at the painful erection between his legs, a product of his voyeurism and pale, hungry eyes that held them in their grasp and filled him with wave after wave of arousal. The action is one of shame and hurt rather than any need for relief, as if by doing so he can wipe away the last few hours. Kageyama doesn’t want to feel like this, he doesn’t want to want Tsukishima any more. He just wants to forget he ever met the bastard who pulls his strings like a master puppeteer.

“Fu.._ huck…” _Kageyama sobs into his arm, the tears finally breaking free. He gives in, succumbing to the oppressive sorrow, allowing it to wash over him and too exhausted to fight it anymore. And when he’s purged himself of the last of his feelings, Kageyama is left numb and he sinks into the blackness of a dreamless sleep.

**&&&**

Most of the party has wound down, people drunkenly sprawled where they passed out. The few still conscious sit in corners talking quietly or are on their way to following their inebriated brethren into the void. Navigating the first floor has been an event of Olympic proportions as Tsukishima attempts to avoid stomping on random, passed out drunks. He even found Hinata snoring and slobbering all over his boyfriend on one of the couches in the lobby. Kenma detaches himself from his game long enough to watch Tsukishima snag a half empty bottle of whiskey and an abandoned pack of cigarettes from the bar. He doesn’t say anything, but Tsukishima doesn’t like the knowing judgement sitting behind those cat-like eyes. It makes his skin itch. With a shake of his head, Kenma returns to his game, the pitiful beeps following Tsukishima as he exits the room.

He heads outside via the backdoor through the kitchen, ignoring Bokuto and Akaashi who are practically swallowing each other’s faces at a small table in a corner. It’s not difficult to imagine what they’re up to, what with the muffled moans and the accompanying sounds of skin on skin. It has the unfortunate effect of dragging his mind back to a few hours ago when blue eyes, almost black in the dim light of the second floor, watched him fuck Suga into incoherency.

Tsukishima grimaces against the cringe the memory causes, stalking through the door and letting slam behind him. This night went from promising to fucked up and confusing the moment Kageyama showed up at the card table, drunk and giggling. Tsukishima was looking forward to unwinding, allowing himself to let loose and for once _ not _think about Kageyama. And he’d been well on his way when he heard a soft gasp and looked up to meet blue eyes that fucking sparkled when they met his. And fuck, Tsukishima had not been ready for the way his heart put NASCAR drivers to shame. How is it possible for a person’s heart rate to skyrocket with excitement while their stomach sunk to their feet in dread? Because that’s the exact sensation Tsukishima was met with as Kageyama sat down at the table with eager, happy eyes locked on him. It took every skill Tsukishima had to maintain his indifferent appearance when faced with a wide-eyed, drunk Kageyama. 

Shit only went downhill from there, because Suga showed up and handed Tsukishima a joint and, by the gods, he had never been looked at like a meal before. Smoking weed is not sexy, not in Tsukishima’s experience. It’s relaxing, or supposed to be. It’s less so when the object of your infatuation sits across from you as you take a hit and stares at you like they could launch themselves across the table and eat you up. And it’s so fucking stupid because the kid is six years his junior and Tsukishima should _ not _ have... _ feelings _, of any kind mind you, toward someone who is practically a high schooler. Tsukishima watched Kageyama stare at him as he sucked down a lungful of acrid smoke, his blue eyes lidded and pink lips slack, warmth pooling between his legs at being the object of the desperate hunger in Kageyama’s eyes. He was sure the kid had no idea how obvious he was being, and Tuskishima didn’t have two shits to care as he watched a visible shiver of lust overtake Kageyama. Tsukishima almost choked, his dick twitching and beginning to swell in the confines of his skinny jeans, and fuck, if that didn’t fuck him up even more.

The moment ended though, thankfully, because Tsukishima was not sure how much more sexual tension he could manage at that point. He made a point to not look—directly—at Kageyama as the festive atmosphere returned. It was Kuroo and Oikawa’s obvious departure that marked the moment Tsukihsima’s night went belly up, and had he been a little more sober, he might not have made the stupid decision that led to the utterly broken look on Kageyama’s face as he watched Suga come undone in his lap.

Tsukishima finds a lonely picnic table in the backyard of the ryokan sitting in the middle of a dried up spring. He sits down, heavy with the weight of the world’s judgement. He takes large swig of alcohol, relishing the burn as it slides down his throat like a penance. He lights a cigarette after and sits in the darkness, completely out of his element and having no idea what to do about Kageyama and his attraction to the kid. He knows he fucked up, but this whole situation has been one big fuck fest he hasn’t figured out how to navigate. He truly hadn’t expected Kageyama to walk in on him and Suga, and he probably should have gone after the kid, but what could he possibly have said?

Suga had come on to him and Tsukishima had been fucking horny courtesy of Kageyama’s innocent desire and Tsukishima’s lack of sobriety. It’s nothing new to him and it’s not a secret, he and Suga hook up occasionally. Kageyama had fled from the room in a panic when it happened and Tsukishima was just fucked up enough to nearly follow him, but he knew, despite his lowered inhibitions, that doing so would be a major faux pas on his part. Getting eye-fucked by Kageyama had the unfortunate effect of making Tsukishima want to ruin him. Deny it as he may, he wanted to follow the boy after he bolted, drag him to a private room, and give him a reason to look at Tuskishima with those fucking blue, bedroom eyes. And he knew Kageyama would let him. He knows enough about Kageyama now to know that he is as reserved as Tsukishima, and that he was drunk enough that all those reservations would go out the window the moment Tsukishima so much as licked his lips. However, Tsukishima may be many things, but a fucking predator is not one of them, and he doesn’t take advantage of people who can’t fully consent. 

So, Suga had been the safer path. The mature decision. At least he thought. And it all would have been fine if Kageyama had not stumbled upon their private party and watched him dick down Suga. Should he have said something? Probably. He’d been having a good time with Suga, as usual. But as soon as he locked eyes with Kageyama, all he could think about is how he’d look in Suga place, getting railed in his lap. He couldn’t look away; being watched by Kageyama, gazing back as his youthful purity was blackened by Tsukishima and Suga’s pornographic display made it all so much sweeter. Tsukishima chased his climax under the devastated expression on Kageyama’s face and the tent in his jeans, coming harder than he had in a long time. 

Was he a sick fuck? Unfortunately.

The worst part of it was Suga noticed. He didn’t notice Kageyama, but he noticed Tsukishima’s distraction. He noticed how Tsukishima stared after the kid earlier. He noticed and teased him about it. If Suga was anyone else, Tsukishima would have decked them in the mouth. As it was, Tsukishima only endured it with an exasperated sigh.

_ “What’s the big deal, anyway?” Suga asks as he pulls on his leggings and plops down next to Tsukshima on the couch. _

_ “What?” Tsukishima says, head reclining against the back of the couch with his eyes closed. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation after having the best orgasm he’s had in awhile. He doesn’t want to think about Kageyama’s miserable expression while Tsukishima got off. Unfortunately, he can’t think of anything else. _

_ Suga makes a noise that practically screams, _ Don’t play dumb with me _ . “The baby, Tsuki. I know you know what I’m talking about. What’s the big deal? He’s obviously into you, and he’s obviously hot.” _

_ Tsukishima rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes, leveling Suga with a look of irritation. “What are you getting at?” _

_ Suga narrows his eyes like he’s trying to figure out if Tsukishima is really that ignorant. “Do. You. Like. Him?” He replies, as if Tsukishima is a dunce who needs someone to talk to him in small words. _

_ Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “You just referred to him as a baby and you’re asking me if I like him?” _

_ “Only because it’s obvious he is out of his element here. It’s not like I can’t tell he’s a grown ass man. So what’s the problem?” _

_ “Fuck, Suga, do we have to do this now?” Tsukishima rubs his face with his hands, digging the palms into his eyes until they spark with color behind his lids. “He’s too young.” _

_ “He’s legal.” _

_ “OMG, you’re such a freak.” _

_ Suga grins at him, and Tsukishima swears he sees a set of horns growing out of his silky hair. “Just think of all the things you could teach him.” _

_ “What the hell is wrong with you?” Tsukishima chuckles. “It’s not like that.” Tsukishima looks down at his lap, fidgeting fingers unable to sit still. What does it say about him that his dick twitches with interest in his jeans at Suga’s suggestion. _

_ “I would beg to differ, Tsuki. You were obviously not thinking of me a few minutes ago.” _

_ Tsukishima would feel bad for it too if Suga didn’t look like a cat full of canary goodness. He sighs, leaning his head back once again and staring up at the stained ceiling above. “I am not boyfriend material.” _

_ Suga giggles beside him. “Who told you that? And I never said anything about boyfriends.” _

Tsukishima takes another drink of his whiskey, flicking off the ash building at the end of his smoke. Tsukishima frowns. _ No, Suga hadn’t said anything about that. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos, thoughts and complaints welcome. Well, complaints aren't welcome. Be nice to me. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next up: I'm not telling. LOL
> 
> Love you guys and thanks for sticking with me!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! I am on time!
> 
> Let's see if the momentum keeps going.

Kageyama just needs an escape, that’s all. Finals are around the corner and Nationals are following close on their heels, but Kageyama is feeling overwhelmed and burnt out. The rose colored glasses he wore when he first arrived, all wide-eyed and hopeful, are dimming beneath the weight of expectations and deadlines. Needless to say, Kageyama is an exhausted freshman.

None of this is helped, of course, by the persistent angst he feels toward a tall, blonde bastard that stomped all over his feelings. All it does is make efforts to accomplish anything that much harder.

Kageyama hugs his coat closer to him, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and his face deeper into his scarf. He wanders down the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind, his only goal being to get away from his room and books for a much needed distraction. Wintertime has always been his favorite season, especially when it snows, and the city dusted beneath the white powder was quickly becoming one of his favorite scenes. Especially with Christmas approaching; the colored lights strung up all over the city giving it a whimsical atmosphere full of promise.

Kageyama passes by a jewelry store advertising bracelets and watches directed at the couples that will surely be bogging the restaurants and attractions soon enough. He tries not to let it bother him, but of course he fails with a sigh. It's not that he actually cares for things like jewelry or even the holiday itself, hell before three months ago he’d never really given any of this couple stuff any consideration. It’s just that it sometimes feels like the universe is mocking him.

_ Tobio is so single! Haha, what a loser! _

Like, what even is that about? Dating should be the last thing on his mind, he has too much to focus on as is.

If only it were that simple, right? But when his brain keeps replaying the night of the party, it’s hard to ignore the consistent hollowness that follows him like a curse even though that whole shit fest happened weeks ago. 

An advertisement catches his eye on a nearby window and he looks up. It’s a konbini across the street selling a new sports drink Kageyama’s come to enjoy. He realizes he’s grown thirsty after walking for so long and makes his way across the street when he reaches the corner. He follows the crowd to the other side, having to backtrack half a block. 

He sighs as he steps into the warmth of the building, the sensation unique to winter, like settling into a nice bath or curling up in your favorite blanket. The bell rings as he enters and stomps off the snow collected around the soles of his boots. He glances around for a reference to the refrigerators while the clerk gives a distracted greeting.

“Welcome, thank you for coming.”

Kageyama’s head snaps up, eyes going wide. He’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s replayed in his head enough time to drive him crazy. He’s momentarily immobile as light brown eyes beneath a fringe of silky, silver hair settle on him, consideration darkening his expression. Kageyama needs to move, like yesterday. His feet come unglued and instead of backing out of the doors and running away like he wants, his body takes him further into the store, stumbling over too big feet with shaky legs.

Of all the places, Kageyama never thought he’d run into Suga in a random konbini. Fuck. His. Life.

Kageyama ducks his head, his feet carrying him across the store, taking aisles that hide him from view from the checkout counter. Which is kinda dumb seeing as he has to approach said counter to buy his drink. Despite his desire to avoid Suga and still have his drink, however, he doesn’t think his jealousy constitutes petty acts of crime for the sake of his pride. When he reaches the glass fridge with rows of colorful bottles of differing sports drink brands, he pauses to compose himself while staring miserably at his reflection. His dark, greasy hair hangs in his eyes because he was too impatient to get out of the house before he showered. Not too mention the dark rings beneath his eyes courtesy of too much studying and not enough sleep. And don’t forget the sickly pallor of his skin. He doesn’t even come close to Suga’s natural allure; his big, brown eyes that hold warmth as well as mischief, or his smile that makes your pulse jump, and even the little beauty mark beneath his left eye exists to add the kind of sex appeal you only see in pin-up models. Kageyama feels pathetically plain in comparison, and it’s no surprise Tsukishima would choose him over an awkward, emotionally stunted little kid.

Kageyama rests his head against the glass, the warmth of the konbini feeling stuffy. His pulse is pounding in his ears, his breath coming a little more rapidly as he blinks away his blurry vision. He refuses to cry right now, there was enough of that at the party. And the day after. It’s reasons like this that remind Kageyama why he spends so much time alone. He’s never had an easy time connecting with people, he’s never been good at reading situations or emotions. And he doesn’t like feeling so lost and embarrassed all of the time.

Whatever. Allowing himself to spiral into a panic attack in the middle of a public space is not acceptable. Especially with Tsukishima’s..._ whatever _ nearby to witness it. Kageyama opens the cooler and snatches his drink from the shelf. He lets the door slam back into place, then heads to the counter feeling more angry at the whole ridiculous fucking situation.

“I hope you found everything alright.”

Kageyama doesn’t look up as he digs his wallet out of his pocket, answering the customary service greeting with a grunt. He passes the cash to the tray when Suga announces his recognition.

“Baby!”

That gets Kageyama’s attention and he looks up before he can stop himself, coming face to face with proud eyes. He can’t help but scowl, though it has no effect on the silver-haired cashier.

“Can’t believe it took me so long to recognize you. To be fair, though, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Kageyama’s scowl deepens. “Kageyama,” he grunts, glancing down at the cash exchange dish with impatience. Again, Suga seems not to notice Kageyama’s obvious displeasure. He even waves off his correction like Kageyama’s name is of little consequence. This just makes him more pissed.

“Don’t worry about it, I mean, it’s just how I recognize you-“

“Are you gonna check me out or not?” Kageyama snaps, his short temper coming in to play the longer he’s forced to endure this particular humiliation. Suga narrows his intelligent eyes, studying him.

“You don’t like me.”

“I don’t _ know _ you. I just want my drink.”

“Is this because I fucked him?”

Kageyama’s head snaps back, the words almost a physical slap. He’s at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating guppy. “Wha-I mean, I don’t-I don’t know what your talking about.” Kageyama begins to panic. Does Suga know? What if he saw Kageyama, too? What if Tsukishima told him how Kageyama watched them in the most intimate moments between two people like some sicko perv? What if they laughed at him...

“Uh-huh…you sure about that, Ka-ge-ya-ma?”

The feel of a blush of humiliation and shame crawling over your face after a question you don’t want answer is it’s own brand of torture. “I don’t care what you...did.” He can’t even look at Suga, can’t even check to see if Suga’s expression gives away the fact that he _ knows _.

“Oh,” Suga chuckles, “You got it bad.”

Kageyama loses himself to a flash of anger, his exhaustion from school and practice, and his frustration and hurt clouding his memory of recent events. “I don’t have anything,” he snaps, “Apparently including the drink I came to buy!” Kageyama sighs, the familiar heat of tears building behind his eyes and his gaze drops to the counter. “What do you want from me?”

Suga’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease.”

Kageyama shrugs, as Suga finally rings up his drink. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he mumbles as he takes his change.

“Why do you say that?”

Kageyama shrugs.

Suga is quiet for a minute, then asks, “Should I beat his ass the next time I see him?”

Kageyama looks up at him, snorting at the utter seriousness in his expression.

“What? You think I can’t?”

Kageyama looks him up and down, raising an eyebrow. Suga is shorter than him, and slighter. It’s obvious he’s at least fit, but Kageyama’s pretty sure he could even he could take him in a fight. Suga just stares back with a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Please. I may be a twink, but I’m no pussy. Ask around, you’ll learn.”

Kageyama can’t help but laugh as he nods, his anger and frustration melting away under Suga’s genuine friendliness. The tension between his shoulders is dissipating as it seems Suga does _ not _know about his voyeurism.

“So,” Suga continues, leaning over the counter on his elbows, “What do you like about him? Tsuki, that is. Well, besides the obvious fact he’s hot as fuck.”

Kageyama shrugs, blushing again. “I like watching him fight.”

Suga watches him, inspecting him. “That’s it?” He asks, an amused grin turning up his mouth.

“I don’t know, okay?” Kageyama mumbles, feeling a little on the defensive. He didn’t really understand his feelings. Suga’s right, Tsukishima _ is _hot in that smoldering, bad boy way, but he’s also a dick. Kageyama knows this, and he knows his feelings don’t make sense.

“Not much to build a relationship on.”

Kageyama blinks at Suga, uncomprehending, before the implication settles. “What?! I mean, I guess…? I-I don’t really know him?” He stutters, his face heating. Again.

“But you want to.”

Kageyama hesitates. _ Is _that what he wants? It occurs to him then that, yes, he really would kike a chance to know the blonde fighter better. He nods, ducking his head in shy admission of the statement.

“Why do _ you _ like him?” Kageyama asks in return before he catches himself, both fearing the answer and extremely curious.

Suga’s grin burns with amusement and fondness, which confuses Kageyama who doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be directed at him or at the thought of Tsukishima. “I like getting fucked _ by him _, big difference.”

Oh. Kageyama tilts his head. There is a flare of possessive jealousy that burns hot and fast before dying out under the acknowledgement that he honestly has no right to feel either of those things when Tsukishima doesn’t belong to him in the first place.

“Don’t get me wrong, Tsukishima would make a great boyfriend if he’d put in effort.” Suga laughs like there’s some inside joke. “But, we tried a few years ago, and two high maintenance people does not a healthy relationship make.”

Kageyama inwardly cringes, again beating down the spike of jealousy. He wonders if it’s just Suga or if he’s feel the same toward anyone who’s had Tsukishima’s attention. 

Suga smile at him, gently, and something in Kageyama eases, he’s able to breathe again as if he’d been holding it for weeks and just now figuring out his lungs still work.

“Tsukishima puts in the effort for things he cares about. Whether that’s pulling someone in...or pushing them away. Believe me, Kageyama, if he didn’t care, you would know it.”

Kageyama’s heart picks up his pace, but he’s too scared to allow Suga’s encouragement to relight the fire that was snuffed out. He shakes his head in disagreement. “He rejected me.”

Suga tilts his head, his smile turning mischievous. “Did he?” He asks. “Tsukishima says a lot of things he doesn’t mean. You just have to learn to read between the snark.”

Kageyama huffs, “Easier said than done.”

“But possible. Give it time.”

Kageyama smiles shyly up at Suga who’s beaming back at him. Suga straightens from his hunched posture over the counter. “Good luck, Kageyama.”

“Thanks, um, S-Suga-san.”

Kageyama leaves the store to the sound of delighted giggles, finding he really likes Suga, and feeling lighter than he has since...well, since forever it seems. He’s still embarrassed about the party, but the humiliation has eased. Thoughts of Tsukishima no longer elicit regret and pain, and Kageyama smiles as he allows himself to think freely of him again. He thinks of the bored look and cocky smile, and Kageyama suddenly misses Tsukishima.

Perhaps after Nationals he’ll drop by the gym once again. Perhaps.

**&&&**

Tsukishima sits slumped in his seat, one foot crossed over his leg and arms crossed over his chest. He frowns down at the court.

Around him, people move in and out of the stands, the crowd thick and noisy, people shoving and bowing, and Tsukishima can’t even hear his own thoughts. It’s probably a good thing, lately his head hasn’t been a place he wants to visit much. 

Why is he here again?

Oh, yeah, _ him _.

On the court below, two teams warm up as they prepare for the final leg of their tournament. One team in gray and white; Kageyama’s team and the defending champion. The other in purple and yellow, the challengers. Tsukishima’s eyes haven’t left Kageyama since he shuffled into the gym and started stretching.

Tsukishima never knew how flexible he was…

“You know, your face will stay like that if you keep making that expression.”

Tsukishima side-eyes Bokuto sitting next to him, fingers linked behind his head and a huge grin on his face. Kuroo leans forward, elbows on his knees and looks at Tsukishima with an equally infuriating grin.

“I’d be more worried about premature wrinkles. You’ll never win him back without your youthful good looks to soften that personality.”

Tsukishima glares harder at the court, but doesn’t acknowledge the two idiots beside him.

In front of him, two university-age girls giggle and point at the court. In their laps are handmade flyers with cut-out photos of Kageyama. Hearts and other, glittery shit decorate them alongside the phrase _ King Kageyama _. Tsukishima wants to dump the entirety of his extra-large water over their head, which pisses him off even more because what is he, a jealous teenager?

Instead, he settles on uncrossing his leg and placing it on the back of the seat in front of his. The girl spins around, looks at his foot on her seat, then glares up at him. Tsukishima looks back at her, his face blank and an eyebrow raised. She turns to her friend and whispers something in her ear, and a moment later both stand and excuse themselves with a look in Tsukishima’s direction that could have flayed the skin from his bones.

Whatever.

The idiots beside him snicker but thankfully keep their teasing to themselves. 

“Are you okay?” Hinata asks from his other side. 

“I’m fine,” Tsukishima snaps without looking at Hinata and feeling wound tight and on edge. It’s been this way since the party, since Kageyama stopped coming to the gym. 

“Okay,” Hinata answers him, and if he hadn’t been sitting right next to Tsukishima, he would have gone unheard. Tsukishima sighs as he ticks off another reason among the many he’s going to hell. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” he tries again, softening his tone. None of this is Hinata’s fault and taking out his frustration on him isn’t going to make the situation any better—the situation being that Tsukishima has royally fucked up and doesn’t have any idea how to fix things.

The morning after the party Hinata was in a panic because he couldn’t find Kageyama. It was his first time drinking and Hinata worried he might have wandered off into the woods and passed out or been eaten by a bear or something else ridiculous. He’d been ready to organize search teams when Kageyama found his way back into the ryokan, eyes red and emotions raw, looking like he’d had the worst night of his life. Hinata was overjoyed with relief, Tsukishima had known better, though. Shortly after, Kageyama left with the group he arrived with. He hadn’t looked at Tsukishima once, and Tsukishima was too much of a coward to say anything.

The next time he found himself at the gym with Hinata, he also found himself on the floor holding his very sore jaw with an angry red devil standing over him looking two seconds from murder. Tsukishima would’ve been impressed if he hadn’t already felt he deserved it. Hinata never told him how much he knew, and Tsukishima just assumed it was everything. Either way, Hinata made a very public statement about his crappy behavior toward Kageyama.

_ “You’re the worst, Bastard-shima!” _

Normally, Hinata’s name calling is amusing at best and annoying at worst. That particular time, however, cut deep because Tsukishima knew it to be the truth. Whatever issues he had toward Kageyama, he had gone too far. And he suffered the consequences of it, he’d gotten what he wanted all along. Kageyama had finally stopped haunting the gym.

Except, Tsukishima never really wanted that. He admits it now, though it took him at least a week more to do so. He tried to tell himself it was for the best and the kid—_ Kageyama _ —was better off. _ Tsukishima _was better off. But that had been a lie. As the saying goes, “You never know what you got until it fucking decides it hates you”. Or, something to that effect.

It took two weeks before Hinata spoke to him again, and much to Tsukishima’s everlasting shame, he felt _ relieved _when the Shrimp finally forgave him. After that, Tsukishima’s attitude steadily declined, Kageyama’s absence like a black hole, a missing piece of Tsukishima’s sad little puzzle.

The fucking dumb thing is, Tsukishima barely knows anything about him. He doesn’t know his favorite color, or if he has any siblings, but he finds he wants to. Tsukishima thinks it’s mostly like recognizes like. It’s easy to see they share similarities, personality wise. Even a little bit of humor. But the little he does know is enough to have Tsukishima craving more. Nevermind that Kageyama is crazy sexy, with those intense blue eyes and tiny, round ass that Tsukishima wants to bury his face in.

He sighs, watching Kageyama practice with his team. It doesn’t help watching him move in those fucking shorts, that’s for sure.

Tsukishima isn’t quite sure if Hinata inviting him to watch Kageyama in a match is some sort of penance for his behavior or what. It feels like it’s punishment, because what will he gain from it? He’s here, yes, but Kageyama remains out of reach. Even if Tsukishima begged (which he _ wouldn’t _ ), why would Kageyama want to give him a second chance? Tsukishima knows _ he’s _ cut off people for less.

A bell rings signaling the end of warm ups and the teams get ready. Each member is announced from both teams and each player takes their place. Tsukishima is surprised to see Kageyama go to stand in a sectioned off area beside the court. To be fair, he has limited knowledge of the sport since his interests lie elsewhere, and he didn’t bother trying to familiarize himself with the rules before the game.

Oikawa is on the court first. Tsukishima knows that he and Kageyama play the same position, and he knows that Oikawa is their main setter. So, Tsukishima settles back in his seat to watch, Kageyama’s team getting to serve first. 

Tsukishima doesn’t have anything against Oikawa, he’s hot but he’s kind of a primadonna. A little too high maintenance for his tastes, and he’s been down that road before and found it isn’t to his liking. However, color Tsukishima impressed as he watches Oikawa launch the first service ace of the game. There is a visible change in his demeanor when he takes his place at the line, then he sends the ball up, jumping after it. And shit you not, Oikawa literally launches the ball like a rocket across the court. It hits the floor so hard he can nearly feel the shockwave from it in the stands. 

Oikawa gets in a total of three service aces before the opposition finally receives it. 

Tsukishima thinks that this will be an easy win and he won’t even get to see Kageyama play. He’s proven wrong as the other team manages to catch up, and from there it’s a tense battle as each team pushes and pulls against the other gaining narrowly and falling behind slightly. It has Tsukishima on the edge of his seat, invested in each play and inwardly praising Kageyama’s team of cursing the other. He glances at Kageyama every so often to find him at the edge of the reserve box, his focus on the game intense and singular.

Tsukishima learns from Hinata that because it’s a national tournament, the match is best out of five sets. Kageyama’s team takes two—the first and third. And by the fourth set, he can tell both teams are feeling the strain; they’re all sweaty and their plays are just on this side of sluggish. He notices Oikawa rubbing at his knee beneath the brace he wears. 

Tsukishima looks at Kuroo. His expression is pensive, his dark eyes locked on his lover. “Does he have an injury?” Tsukishima asks during a time out.

Kuroo’s eyes never leave Oikawa as he nods. “An old one from high school. It wasn’t serious, but it can give him problems if he puts too much strain on it.”

Tsukishima nods, his eyes trailing the setter and he drinks from his water bottle, conversing with his teammates and coach. Their coach says something to him, and by the disappointed look on his face, whatever it is, Oikawa is not happy about it. 

The whistle blows signaling the end of the timeout and the players head back to the court. Before Oikawa can serve, the whistle blows again, and Oikawa frowns, turning off the court. Tsukishima catches the sight of Kageyama at the edge of the reserve box holding a tag, and his pulse speeds up. 

Kageyama is being subbed in!

Hinata nudges Tsukishima in the side, which earns him a glare for the interruption. Hinata is flushed with excitement and grinning with a devil-may-care gleam in his brown eyes. “Wanna get a closer look?”

Tsukishima looks back at the court as Kageyama takes his place in the serving position. Gone is the awkward teen Tsukishima has known and he’s replaced by this new monster. He can’t help the shiver of anticipation and desire that rolls down his spine watching Kageyama standing straight and confident in his element. Tsukishima nods. Hell yes he wants to get closer. 

All four of them rise and follow Hinata down the steps. They make it halfway before the whistle blows and Kageyama serves. Tsukishima stops in the middle of the stairs, blocking Kuroo and Bokuto so he can watch. It’s similar to Oikawa’s serve with maybe _ slightly _ less power behind it. Still, the sound of Kageyama’s hand hitting the ball and the ball hitting the floor of the back corner makes Tsukishima’s heart jump to his throat.

The volley begins with the second serve and Tsukishima makes it to the balcony railing, wondering why he didn’t watch from here from the beginning. The view is spectacular.

The set continues until Kageyama is up front in the setting position. It’s obvious the other team is nervous by the way they regard Kageyama with wary respect. Kageyama holds himself like royalty. Oikawa was definitely impressive by any standard, it’s clear he has talent. But even Tsukishima can tell Kageyama belongs where he is, like setting is an extension of his being.

The other team’s current server keeps glancing at Kageyama nervously as he prepares to start the volley. It’s clear that Kageyama is in his head—in all of their heads—even before they’ve started. Tsukishima finds he’s a little jealous of Kageyama.

The ball is served and Kageyama starts calling out...orders. Like he’s some sort of...well, now the flyers those girls had earlier makes a little more sense. However, as demanding as he is, it’s not tyrannical. Kageyama leads efficiently as his team nods and acquiesces to his will. The ball flies over the net to be caught by Kageyama’s libero. It’s a perfect dig and the ball arches toward Kageyama like it can’t wait to get to him. Kageyama sets the ball, his form flawless. But it’s the accuracy that makes Tsukishima suck in a shuddering breath. What is he? A goddamned robot? Is it even physically possible that his teammate jumps before the ball even gets to Kageyama, only to have it meet him at the pinnacle of his jump? The fuck is that even?!

But it’s the setter dump that totally fucks Tsukishima up, the winning move. Kageyama is often predictable as a player but it makes him dangerous, it’s like he rubs the other team’s faces in every point stolen. But he can be unpredictable too, luring his opponent into a false end of comfort before yanking the rug from beneath their feet to watch them fall to the ground. And that’s how he leads his team to victory, the unsuspecting blockers assuming he would spend his play utilizing the Ace or what not, and while their focus is anywhere but on him, dumping the toss over the net and winning the game with a move that should have been obvious.

Even from the balcony Tsukishima could see the smug shine to Kageyama’s eyes and the smirk curling the corner of his mouth. It was deliciously cruel. Tsukishima will never deny being a huge dick, it’s part of his schtick—a facet of his personality he’s built upon for years. It comes as natural as breathing. So, Tsukishima knows what being a dick looks like. Kageyama is _ not _ a dick. His resting bitch face is organic, smiling is as unnatural to him as compliments are for Tsukishima. But that doesn’t mean he’s an asshole, Kageyama is actually a pretty nice guy. That is, until you put him on a volleyball court with a ball in his hand. Then he turns into a grade A shithead, and Tsukishima _ fucking loves it _ . Watching him silently gloat over the losers makes Tsukishima half hard in his joggers, his dick twitching like it wants to point at Kageyama and say, “Um hello, I’ll fuck one of _ those _ please and thank you.” And boy does he fully agree. He wants Kageyama to look at _ him _like that, if only so he can be the one to wipe that look off his face and replace it with ecstasy. 

He’s still staring—hard—when Kageyama’s blue eyes turn up to the stands and lands on him. He has no idea what he looks like to Kageyama, but it must be good because the smirk just grows..._ smirkier _, and despite the flush on his cheeks that’s more than just exertion, it’s probably the sexiest anyone has ever looked in Tsukishima’s opinion. He’ll deny it to the day he dies, but he had to lean against the rail for two reasons: the first being he had to hide the half chub that went full mast in point zero two seconds flat, and second, his knees got a little weak. 

The eye contact only lasts moments, then Kageyama is buried beneath his team in victory and both teams are called off the court for the end game talks and awards. Tsukishima and his group hang out until Kageyama’s team line up in front of the stands to bow and thank their supporters. While the rush of winning is still warm in their blood, Kageyama’s confidence is slowly wearing off to be replaced with his usual standoffishness. He doesn’t make eye contact again with Tsukishima and the blush on his cheeks is definitely shyness. Doesn’t matter though, Tsukishima finds he likes both sides of him. He grins down at Kageyama, nibbling his bottom lip as he allows the dirtiest ideas flutter through his imagination.

“Please don’t jump the rail and attack him,” Kuroo says oh so nochalantly, “I don’t want to have to rescue you from jail for sexual assault.”

Tsukishima coughs and rushes to cover the obvious hunger in his expression, glaring yet again at Kuroo, and _ actual _dick. His eyes fall on Hinata who’s grinning back at him with this stupid fucking knowing look in his eyes. He scoffs at him and turns away, heading for the nearest exit. 

“Do we need to stop for condoms?” Kuroo yells after him. He rolls his eyes, ignoring the perturbed and scandalized looks of strangers, and ignoring his so-called friends as he leaves them behind.

However, Kuroo isn’t wrong. It may be a good idea to stock up on provisions. You know, just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING*
> 
> There is a scene of sexual assault in this chapter, so if you have troubles with that kinda thing stop reading after the scene break and start up again when Kuroo comes rushing in. 
> 
> Sorry that it took so long to post this. I have been remodeling my house and that has taken every bit of my energy and motivation. But, it's all pretty much done, so hopefully (cross your fingers) chapter 8 won't take as long. 
> 
> (I say that and we all know by now that I am a slow writer)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me and commented, I can't tell you how much I appreciate the support. And thank you stacysmash for beta-ing this story and all the encouragement. You are the bestest!

Tsukishima leans against the wall tipping back his beer and taking a sip as he nods at something Semi says. A few of the friendlier gyms have met up at a SpoCha for some relaxing competition. The evening is chill as they hang out at the batting cages for now, drinking beer and eating junk food.

It’s been a few weeks since Tsukishima saw Kageyama, but the memory of him on the court still hovers in the back of his mind. Every now and then, the vision of King Kageyama lording his victory over his defeated foes will swim to the forefront of his consciousness, electric tingles shooting down his spine as a result, making goosebumps rise all over his body and his cock twitch in his pants.

Tsukishima finds he doesn’t mind the feeling, letting it happen when it does, his lips curling in a small grin in response. He’s been caught a few times, embroiled in his memory of that day, his eyes far away, and has to endure the unceasing teasing that comes with being out about his crush. It’s whatever, though. Tsukishima is too wrapped up in his desire to care. 

But the residual feelings that spark up whenever the memory strikes are nothing compared to the freshness of the feeling right after the match. It had Tsukishima keyed up all afternoon and into the evening, putting in extra hours training as he refused to succumb to the temptation of fantasizing about Kageyama. For some awful reason, it felt wrong to use him as material to jack off to. That had been a hard night, exercising extreme self-control in the shower, and after he’d retired for the night, his cock stubbornly remaining stiff and aching and begging Tsukishima to stroke it. He hadn’t, knowing that any attempt at relief would weaken his will and invite every dirty vision of all the things he’d love to do to Kageyama. But it wasn’t all bad. At least he woke up in the morning feeling a little less like a piece of shit and a little more redeemable. 

However, Kageyama still didn’t come by the gym. Tsukishima tried not to feel disappointment every time someone stepped through the gym doors and it wasn’t Kageyama. He hoped that his appearance at Kageyama’s game might have proven to him that, yes, Tsukishima did have an interest in him. Sadly, it appeared that it hadn’t been convincing enough. Tsukishima was at a loss, he had no way of contacting Kageyama and if he did, he really had no way of knowing if he’d even be responsive. Tsukishima was even desperate enough to ask for any news or information from Hinata, though he made sure to be subtle. He surprised himself, though, that he would even put out in this much effort for a crush, which begged the question then, was this simply _ just _ and crush to begin with?

Tsukishima tries not to dwell on those thoughts, stuffing them down into the space he sets aside for issues he wants to avoid. It was enough that he is interested in this guy, no need to compound the situation with more complex feelings that may or may not be involved. 

Anyway, it’s all become overwhelming and that’s why he’s hanging out tonight. He needs to relax. He’s disappointed and a little sad and he can’t stand wallowing anymore. All the time he’s had to think about things and no solution has presented itself, especially if Kageyama refuses to come around anymore. Tsukishima hopes to hell that he hasn’t completely blown whatever chance he had.

Tsukishima takes a turn at the bat after some convincing from Akaashi. He steps into the cage with the uncomfortable plastic helmet on his head, a few friends catcalling and cheering. He grabs a bat, swinging a few times to get a feel for the weight as he takes his place at the plate. He digs a foot into the floor and bends his knees, relaxing his shoulders and making sure to keep his elbows up. Someone presses the button behind him and the pitching machine comes to life, spitting a ball at him, straight over the plate. He swings, the crack of the ball on the metal bat ringing dully. He lets himself get lost in the almost rhythmic spit, swing, and hit, the sound of his friends’ praise and comments becoming nothing more than a pleasant background noise.

It doesn’t last long, his turn over within a couple minutes. His arms are buzzing from the kickback, and he turns toward the exit feeling satisfied. Kogonegawa is next, his blonde fringe bobbing above his forehead as usual in his excitement as the skips into the cage, and Tsukishima is replacing the bat on the stand when he sees him. Kageyama is at a table in the back just beyond the cages. He’s with Hinata and surrounded by a few other boxers and a few of their friends, his blue eyes are locked onto Tsukishima like there is no one else in the room. The hair on Tsukishima’s body rises and a tremor cascades from his head, straight down his spine, and out through his toes. He’s here and every nerve in Tsukishima’s body is singing with want.

It’s funny, though, that regardless of the fact Tsukishima has been waiting on edge to see Kageyama again, he still can’t make himself approach him. He gazes right back into those intense blue eyes, and when he leaves the cage, he rejoins the guys grouped out front. He gets a hold of his beer and acts like nothing has changed, except now he steals glances at Kageyama who’s doing the same back at him. 

He’s not sure about the song and dance they do around each other. Another hour passes and they never come close to talking, or even outwardly acknowledging the other. However, Tsukishima can’t say they aren’t interacting. In fact, it’s like they’re having a conversation behind the backs of everyone else with each look they steal, each grin they share. It’s eye fucking, is what it is. Tsukishima _ knows _ he’s being blatantly obvious with is heavy lidded gazes, and it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just been hard to maintain control when Kageyama blushes and looks away, then shyly glances back through those long fucking lashes. Something has changed between them, but Tsukishima is still at a loss as to what that is. He knows Kageyama wants him, but he never makes a move to get any closer. It’s hypocritical, he knows. Tsukishima should grow a pair and make the move, but for some reason, the thought of it makes him nervous. 

What if he comes on too strong and freaks him out? His personality is not all rainbows, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s sent interested parties running away in frustration or hurt. Or, what if he’s more or less than what Kageyama is expecting? What if Kageyama is? There is nothing worse than a fantasy made disappointingly real. 

The party splits up overtime, smalls groups heading off into other areas of the entertainment complex. Tsukishima finds Kuroo in deep conversation with Daichi and Suga. He joins them at the table they’re sitting at, Dachi giving him a brief nod of acknowledgement without even interrupting his conversation. He doesn’t really engage besides a grunt of agreement when Kuroo asks him something he isn’t even paying attention to. Hinata wanders by with Goshiki and Lev, disappearing into the bowling alley and Tsukishima debates following them, guessing Kageyama is probably stuck in there with a bunch of idiots. He’d disappeared when the party broke up and Tsukishima hasn’t seen him since, and there is a heavy ball of disappointment sitting in Tsukishima’s stomach.

Several minutes pass, Tsukishima still waffling on the best course of action when he decides that he’ll take a piss first, then man up and find Kageyama. Tsukishima stands and excuses himself, exchanging “see ya’s” with his friends. He makes his way to the nearest bathroom across the open food court, turning down the hall and is put immediately on alert when he hears raised voices. He can’t understand what they’re saying, but the tone has his shoulders tensing. As he draws closer he recognizes one of the voices as Oikawa, the cold and measured way he speaks hasTsukishima bracing for a confrontation. 

Tsukishima pulls the door open.

**&&&**

Kageyama stands behind Oikawa glowering at the three men blocking the door. He’d come in to relieve himself never thinking he’d ever be sexually harassed while taking a piss. The guys had been there already, one at a urinal, the other two at the sinks. They leered at Kageyama when he walked in, unnaturally quiet while he did his business. Then Oikawa had showed up, strutting confidently into the bathroom, primping in the mirror, and whispering things about Kuroo that carried in the quiet of the bathroom.

Then the insults started, rude and cruel at first; things that had Kageyama staring in horror even as Oikawa jumped to defend them. Kageyama freely admits to being naive about some things, but he’s not dumb and he knows about homophobia. He grew up in a small town. However, he’s never been the center of such sudden hate from people he’s never met. Not off the court, anyway. 

However, the confrontation sinks from creepy territory to full on fearful when the insults became more and more suggestive. That’s when Oikawa takes a stance in front of him, to Kageyama’s surprise. As far as he knows, Oikawa has never been in a fight in his life (excepting Iwaizumi’s frequent punishments), but here he stands as if he’s ready to throw down his life for Kageyama, the most annoying insect in his life. Kageyama is as humbled as he is pissed. If Oikawa is ready to throw hands with these assholes, then Kageyama prepares himself to do the same. Whether either of them has any prior experience with self-defense is of no consequence, he is pretty sure these guys wouldn't put their hands on them without coming away unscathed.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, faggot?” One of them—the leader, maybe—was saying. “That’s what you freaks like, right?”

It is more of the same, spitting explicit slurs at them while detailing what they think gay men want in sex.

“Especially Blue Eyes, there. Bet he really loves it when he has a cock shoved in his mouth. Don’t you, fucking freak.”

“Sounds more like it’s what you like,” Oikawa snaps back. Kageyama’s heart leaps to his throat even as he braces for a physical assault when the guy’s eyes darken with fury.

“What’s that, cocksucker? Wanna say that again?” One of his friends chuckles darkly, his body shifting as if he’s only waiting for the okay from his idiot buddy.

“Yeah, man. This guy sure does like to talk. Hey Matsuda, can you think of a good way to shut him up?”

The leader, Matsuda, snickers. “Hell, this fucker’s salivating just thinking of it. What d’ya say, Tamura? Wanna give this freak what he wants? Show him what a real cock tastes like, instead of some pussy faggot’s?”

“Sure you wanna try that?”

Kageyama sucks in a sharp breath at the familiar and welcome voice, turning his head to see Tsukishima standing just inside the door. He has his hands in his pockets and looks relaxed, but Kageyama is versed enough in his offensive energy that he knows Tsukishima is a snake, coiled and ready to bite. He strolls further into the bathroom like he isn’t concerned about the argument happening, but he deliberately steps between the assholes and Kageyama and Oikawa. He’s taller than all three of the guys, which is not surprising, but two of them are broader, not that it matters. Kageyama knows well the ropes of muscle beneath his t-shirt and track jacket. Tsukishima doesn’t seem bothered by the size differences, his body language hasn’t changed except to leer over the leader. Kageyama can’t see the expression on his face, but can surely imagine it. Tsukishima doesn’t have a wide range of them, so he’s pretty sure he’s staring at that guy with a raised eyebrow and a sneer.

“Is there a problem here?” Tsukishima asks, his tone is mostly monotone, but there is a hint of challenge underlying it.

“None of your fucking business, asshole, so fuck off!” The guy snaps back at him, squaring up as if he actually thought he could be intimidating. “Unless you’re one of these freaks too, then by all means, join the party.” He smirks, eyes flashing with malice.

It’s quiet in the bathroom as the tension thickens to the point it makes Kageyama’s anxiety flare. He’s pissed, sure, but the atmosphere is overwhelming and he’s struggling to control his breathing, gripping at the back of Oikawa’s shirt. Oikawa looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening to see Kageyama’s condition and he turns.

“It’s okay, breath, Tobio,” he whispers into Kageyama’s ear. Kageyama tries to listen, his eyes locked on the stand off in front of him. Oikawa turns back to Tsukishima and says, “Hey, it’s no big deal. Let’s just get-“

“I know guys like you, hiding your homosexuality behind slurs, insults, and threats because you’re ashamed. Or maybe just jealous because we aren’t cowards like you.” The statement is offered like Tsukishima is telling the time. He leans back, his body completely relaxed.

The three guys stiffen, horror and guilt melting into two of their expressions, but the leader’s expression warps into fury and something dangerous. “What did you say, freak?!”

Tsukishima sighs, and Kageyama can basically hear him rolling his eyes. Oikawa is frozen in front of Kageyama, fear of the reality of the situation settling over him, and he grips Kageyama’s arm in turn. “If I tell you to, run, got it?” He commands loud enough for Kageyama to hear. Kageyama can’t answer, he’s like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi.

“I’m sorry, was I unclear? Guys like you are a dime a dozen. You like fucking men. Or, more likely, getting fucked by them. But you’re ashamed of that so you’re threatening my friends because you think you’ve picked the weak sheep of the bunch. But you’ll have to get through me first, and I promise you, I’m no sheep.” Tsukishima’s words drip with disgust. Kageyama’s eyes widen as he watches Tsukishima slip into an offensive stance, he’s totally going to beat the shit of these guys and he and Oikawa are right in the middle of an impending brawl. Oikawa edges Kageyama toward the door as slow as possible so they don’t draw attention to themselves.

The tension reaches its climax with a loud crack as Tsukishima’s head snaps to the side, the leader of the trio of idiots panting like he’d run a mile as fast as he could. His face is contorted in an anger that is almost comical if not for the very real threat of violence surrounding him. 

However, Kageyama can finally see Tsukishima’s face as he merely works his jaw from side to side before smirking, his eyes more gold than brown in the fluorescent light and burning with predatory glee. Realization of the precarious situation he is in crawls over the leader like the side character of a horror movie realizing he’s about to die. He dismissed Tsukishima as delicate simply because of his sexuality and he is about to reap the consequences of his discrimination. And Tsukishima doesn’t disappoint as he gives the man no time to react, jabbing him with a right fist in the ribs, a left to his plexus, and an uppercut straight up the center of his jaw with another right. The guy drops to his knees like a sack of potatoes, barely able to move and gasping for air, amidst the yelling of his friends who hover over their defeated friend. They stare up at Tsukishima, fear and uncertainty clouding their expressions. Kageyama stares with a slack jaw as Tsukishima relaxes again into an offensive stance with a raised eyebrow, daring the other two to pick up where their comrade fell.

Their decision is a smart one as they turn, tails tucked between their legs, battling to be first out of the door and shoving their way past Kuroo, Bokuto, and a few others who coming rushing into the bathroom.

“What the hell?!” Kuroo says, coming to stand by the prone form of the leader. He’s looking at the guy, then at Tsukishima, demanding an explanation without even saying anything.

“It’s nothing,” Tsukishima replies, flexing his right hand, “Just some douchebags who needed a lesson in basic human decency.”

“They were gonna rape us.” Kuroo looks at Kageyama in horror, back at the guy still on the ground, then at Oikawa. Kuroo is by Oikawa’s side in seconds, checking over him like a nervous mother’s.

“I’m fine, Kuroo,” he says. He’s pensive but the relief on his face is obvious. “I’m not sure Tobio is, though.”

Kageyama looks at Oikawa, noticing for the first time the uncontrollable tremors wracking his body. He just stares at Oikawa, (his anxiety running rampant) adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream in a mixture of fear, and oddly, arousal. His gaze turns to Tsukishima who’s watching him with a blank expression, and the fighter steps toward Kageyama, looking down on him.

“Breathe, Kageyama.” Tsukishima’s expression is at odds with his soft tone of voice and concern in his light brown eyes. It’s a curious look on him, making Kageyama’s heartbeat stutter for different reason than an anxiety attack. But he inhales deep and slow, realizing he’s mimicking Tsukishima when he begins to calm. He can’t stop staring up into his face, his eyes locked with Tsukishima’s. His panic eventually passes and he’s able to breathe without feeling like he’s suffocating or that he’s shaking out of his skin. “I’m fine,” he says, his voice still a little shaky.

“Do you wanna leave?” Tsukishima asks, and Kageyama nods, unsure how to feel about the sudden concern for his well being from the guy he thought couldn’t stand him. Tsukishima wraps an arm around his shoulder, tentative at first, as if he’s not used to being so physical. He relaxes quickly when Kageyama doesn’t toss him off, and squeezes Kageyama’s shoulder, guiding him to the exit. 

“Imma take him home,” he says over his shoulder.

“Yeah man,” Kuroo replies, “I got Toorū.”

They stop to grab their coats and then he and Tsukishima are walking out of the door, through the center, and out into the parking lot, Tsukishima’s arm wrapped snug around Kageyama’s shoulders the whole way. It is a surreal moment for Kageyama, so much so that he feels like he’s floating beside himself, while at the same time he can feel every minute contraction of the muscles in Tsukishima’s arms, the heat that passes between them through their clothes at every point of contact, and the scent of Tsukishima’s sweat and deodorant, and maybe even a hint of musky cologne. He can’t even look at Tsukishima, too afraid Tsukishima will see the fear and the raw desire that courses through his blood stream. The hope for what this means, if it means anything at all.

Kageyama feels like he’s burning from the inside out, like he will explode into a thousand tiny sparkles of giddiness, and he’s never been more thankful when they finally reach Tsukishima’s car and separate. Then they’re on the road, heading toward Kageyama’s home in painfully awkward silence. It doesn’t help that he’s surrounded by all things Tsukishima, who’s old jalopy is pristine, the only trash being a few gum wrappers tossed haphazardly in the center console. Kageyama sneaks a look at the backseat, which is remarkably clean as well. But it fucking smells like Tsukishima, which means it smells like heaven and it’s doing bad things for his libido. Kageyama’s still riding the high of adrenaline in his blood, which has, with no way to discharge the energy, decided to settle in his dick. He’s fidgety with nerves, tapping his fingers on his knee or constantly shifting in his seat, but he’s kinda fucking horny, and his half chub is getting uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?”

Kageyama jerks, the sudden sound of a human voice after so much quiet startling the shit out of him. He shoots Tsukishima a sheepish frown and Tsukishima keeps glancing at him as if he’s a bomb about to explode if not handled correctly.

“Hn, I’m fine,” Kageyama practically whispers.

“You sure?” Tsukishima says with an eyebrow raised, obviously not convinced by Kageyama’s stellar communication skills. Kageyama shrugs.

“That was just insane, is all. I’ve-I’ve never been...in a fight...before.”

Tsukishima snorts. “You still haven’t.”

Kageyama glares at him before he catches himself, but Tsukishima is staring at the road and grinning. It’s hard to be mad when Tsukishima looks so fucking hot. How is it possible to look so fucking hot driving a stupid car?

“Whatever,” Kageyama replies, but he can’t stop the return grin that spreads over his face. “Um, thanks, by the way...for that.”

“You mean for saving your ass? Yeah, no problem.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, but doesn’t take the bait. “How’s your-um-how’s your hand?”

Tsukishima flexes his right hand, balling it into a fist before stretching out his long fingers and Kageyama zeroes in on the action. He wants to grab it in his own and run his thumb over the calloused knuckles. He wants to kiss the fist that defended his honor. He wants those long digits in his mouth so he can run his tongue along the length of them, taste them, fucking gag on them.

_ Holy hell, man, get ahold of yourself. _

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse breaking down boxes at work,” Tsukishima says with a shrug before focusing back on the road. Kageyama jerks his eyes away, blushing at the impure thoughts that totally caught him off guard. He’s not sure where the hell that all came from.

“So, that was your first real fight, huh?” Tsukishima asks, glancing at him briefly.

Kageyama shrugs, “According to you I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Oh wow, so rude to your elders.”

Kageyama chuckles, “Yeah, besides watching you in a match, I’ve never been that close to one.” Silence immediately settles in the car, a heavy tense thing that Kageyama almost chokes on. He’s pretty sure bringing up Tsukishima’s past failures isn't a good way to win him any favors.

“Hey, um, sorry, I didn’t mean-“ Kageyama stutters to apologize, but Tsukishima is turning the car off the road. And great, he’s gonna throw Kageyama out of the car and leave him to walk home alone. Way to go, dumbass.

Tsukishima parks the car in the parking lot of a nearby park and turns off the car, sitting in silence, the only noise being the popping of the engine as it cools down. Tsukishima is staring straight out of the windshield, both hands still gripping the wheel, and by his expression, Kageyama thinks he is trying to decide something very important. Kageyama stares at his lap, hands shoved between his thighs to keep from picking that his nails nervously. He wants to know what he’s thinking, if Tsukishima is angry or annoyed, and is he the cause. But Kageyama’s also too scared of the truth. 

Obviously coming to a decision, Tsukishima looks at him, his face carefully blank. “C’mon,” he says to Kageyama who looks up and just stares at him, “I wanna teach you to throw a decent punch.”

“W-what?” Kageyama answers, his brows furrowing in confusion. 

Tsukishima doesn’t answer, just turns to the door and gets out. Kageyama’s brain lags, slowly processing the turn of events before scrambling to get out of the car and following Tsukishima. “What-why do you-I don’t understand,” he says, desperately trying to stifle the panic in his chest. So much has happened in the last half hour and Kageyama’s had too little time to make sense of it all; the assault, how and why Tsukishima came to their—_ his _—defense, being basically held by someone he thought couldn’t stand him. And now this.

Kageyama follows Tsukishima to the nearest clearing. The park they stopped at was large-ish, with a playground on the other side, a small pond beyond that, and the rest of it is short brown grass and bare trees. Tsukishima stops on a relatively flat piece of space and turns to him. 

“Hit me.”

Kageyama has just caught up to Tsukishima when he pulls up short, tripping slightly on a dry, grassy divot. He manages to steady himself before he tumbles to the ground in spectacular fashion, only to stare at Tsukishima in horror. What?

“What?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, crosses his arms over his chest, and widens his stance. “Hit. Me.”

“No.” Kageyama balks at the unprompted demand. He’s never hit anyone in his life and he isn’t about to start by throwing hands with the guy he’s been crushing on. He’s dumb, but not stupid.

Tsukishima drops his arms, hands resting at his hips as he looks down his nose at Kageyama. His expression is so condescending it makes Kageyama’s spine tingle. “What, are you afraid, King?”

The hell?! Kageyama glares at him and balls his fist unintentionally. He knows he’s being baited, but he isn’t sure why. “Why are you doing this?” He grumbles, clenching his teeth and avoiding looking at Tsukishima. “I don’t understand-“

“Kageyama, goddamnit, just..._ hit _me already-“

Kageyama takes a wild swing at Tsukishima, embarrassed that it is so easily deflected, and pissed because he knew it would be.

“The hell was that?” Tsukishima gripes as Kageyama takes a step back and ducks his head in humiliation. “Kenma hits harder and more precise than that and he basically sits on his skinny ass all day.” Kageyama’s shoulders come up to his ears and he shoves his hands in his pockets, frowning at the ground. “Forget it,” he mumbles, too embarrassed now to continue, especially if Tsukishima is going to mock him. He turns to walk away, but Tsukishima’s yelling at him before he can take two steps.

“Oi! Don’t walk away, you pussy!” 

Kageyama whirls and stomps up to him, sick of his digs and hurtful comments, and worn out from the emotional rollercoaster he never signed up for. “I’m not a pussy, you bastard. I’ve never had to hit anyone in my life, so excuse me for my lack in technical skill!” 

Tsukishima stares at him with surprised eyebrows. He smirks when Kageyama’s rant peters out and he’s left panting in frustration. 

“I can tell,” Tsukishima says, his smug grin making Kageyama wish he could throw a decent punch and land it on Tsukishima’s pretty mouth. Why did he have to be such a bastard? Kageyama throws up his hands as if to tell the darkening sky that he’s officially given up. He turns again and walks several feet away, stopping and tapping his foot because he can’t stand still with all the irritation running through him like red ants along his skin. It takes him a moment to let go of the tension in his shoulders, then he sighs. “I play volleyball. I’m a setter. I don’t need to know how to hit people,” he says without looking back.

Tsukishima chuckles. “Is that so?” He asks, the sarcasm he most likely intended to sound malicious, tinted instead with quiet fondness. At least, that’s what Kageyama feels and it’s hard to maintain his anger in the face of it. His frustration starts to melt away, a steady release of ice under the heat of Tsukishima’s attention. 

“Well,” Tsukishima says, the crunch of dead grass telling Kageyama the fighter is moving closer. Kageyama tries to control the shudder wanting to run along his body everytime Tsukishima gets near him. “Throwing a punch is a much more useful skill if you ever have to protect yourself.” Tsukishima is close enough now that his breath ghosts Kageyama’s ear and he loses control of the shudder as it attacks him from his head, all down his spine, and grounds itself in the dirt beneath his sneakers. 

“I can’t always be there to protect you, ya know? What do you plan to do next time if you don’t learn? Spike a ball in their face?” 

There’s a grin that Kageyama can here in the question and it causes a flush to heat his cheeks. Kageyama bites his lip, long fingers alighting firm and hot on his hips as Tsukishima helps him into an offensive stance. Kageyama closes his eyes, choking back a moan as he’s manhandled by the strong fighter. 

“Before I met you, I had never been assaulted,” Kageyama defends and its more breathless than he wants, which is fucking embarrassing. He hated how easily affected he is by such simple, and ultimately, innocent interactions with Tsukishima. 

Hoping Tsukishima doesn’t make a point to call Kageyama out in his obvious arousal he quickly states, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you had ever received one of Oikawa-san’s spikes.”

There is a genuine laugh buried in his hair behind his ear that sends a vicious tremor from his spine to his fingertips that Kageyama prays can be blamed on the cold weather. He can’t believe he’s being allowed this close to Tsukishima, has never let himself once imagine this could be a possibility, and now he’s here he desperately wants to lean into Tsukishima’s muscled torso or press his hips back until he can feel the man beneath the layers of clothing. 

“No, I suppose I wouldn’t,” Tsukishima says. Kageyama’s eyes nearly roll, the puff of breath on his neck causing goosebumps to rise all over his body, and Tsukishima’s low tone feels like a warm blanket wrapping around him. Unintentionally he tilts his head, closing his eyes and inwardly screaming at Tsukishima to put his mouth on the bared skin. He can feel Tsukishima’s hot breath ghosting over the unprotected expanse of his neck, each exhalation growing hotter and heavier the longer they stand there, and Kageyama’s toes curl in his shoes. His heart beats so hard he’s sure Tsukishima can feel it through his back and the clothes that cover it. Tsukishima’s fingers twitch on his hips, the grip tightening ever so slightly as his breath hitches and then washes over his neck again, hotter than before. Kageyama feels like he’s going to implode from the anticipation, his cock twitching in his jeans, and while he would prefer not to sprout a hard on in public, he’s struggling to maintain any concerns with Tsukishima so close to him.

A brush of lips against his skin sends a spark of fire throughout his body along the network of nerves like a fuse being lit and culminating in his cock. It wasn’t anything, barely a touch of lips and so light Kageyama could convince himself it was his imagination, but he’s unable to contain his reaction as his jeans become uncomfortably tight, his cock hard in seconds and pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Tsukishima makes a noise in the back of his throat, something low and deep that rumbles through his chest, and Kageyama aches to turn around and say fuck it. He wants to throw himself into Tsukishima’s arms and beg for him to take him, to ruin Kageyama for anyone else who would come after.

Kageyama’s phone chirps in his pocket, and for a second, the mood hangs in suspense, the interruption muffled like it’s coming from long distance. It takes a moment for the sound of it to register, then the moment between them is broken like the snapback of a broken rubber band. Tuskishima makes the first move, stepping back, the cold air rushing in to fill the empty space of his absence. Kageyama stifles a growl of frustration and digs in his pocket, yanking his phone out to glare at it. On the screen is a notification informing him he has a message from one short, redheaded cockblock. 

_ From: Hinata _

_ “Are you alright?” _

There is a short burst of irritation but ultimately he can’t be too upset with Hinata. It’s actually nice to have someone who cares enough to check up on him. Still, he chooses to ignore it, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Unfortunately, now that the heated moment between him and Tsukishima has passed, Kageyama finds himself embarrassed by how he let himself become so affected by what happened. He finds he can’t quite make eye contact with Tsukishima and he’s sure his hot face is letting off steam against the chill in the air.

“Well, this should make things a little easier,” Tsukishima says, and Kageyama’s embarrassment is momentarily overtaken by confusion.

“What?”

“When I tell you to imagine you’re punching someone, we both know who the most convenient face will be,” Tsukishima replies deadpanned.

For half a second Kageyama stares at Tsukishima, processing his answer and then he grins. A small chuckle is pulled from him as he notices Tsukishima’s lips twitch, a sign he’s trying to hold back his own laughter. This just serves to make Kageyama laugh harder, and when he does, Tsukishima following him until they’re both cackling like mental patients. 

The levity serves to clear the air of the last traces of the heat that passed between them minutes ago. After that, Tsukishima resumes their impromptu boxing lesson.

And Tsukishima’s right. When he tells Kageyama to imagine a face to punch, Hinata’s is the first that comes to mind.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuki is weak.
> 
> Kageyama is confused.
> 
> Kuroo is fed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I'm slow.

Tsuki sits in his car outside his apartment building, the engine off and clanking as it cools. He leans back, head on the headrest and eyes closed. He keeps replaying the events of the evening in his head, and believe it or not they have little to do with the actual fight. Most of what he remembers of the confrontation is the white hot fury he felt when he walked into the restroom to find Kageyama huddling in a corner behind Oikawa, pinned by a group of cretins. All he’d wanted at that moment was to make them regret putting the shadow of fear in Kageyama’s dark blue eyes. Everything else that happened was just a blur.

But what stands out the most isn’t the look of utter relief in Kageyama’s expression when Tsukishima arrived nor the way Kageyama felt curled beneath his arms like a small shivering baby bird. What stands out the most was the defiance behind the fear when he thought he’d have to fight for his own honor and the same look directed at Tsukishima when he’d pushed Kageyama to punch him. That and the way he shivered when Tsukishima pressed against him as he feigned helping Kageyama take a more appropriate defensive stance. To be fair, Tsukishima’s intentions were pure when he’d decided to teach him to throw a punch, and it wasn’t until he was practically chest to back, hands on trim hips, that honorable intentions mostly flew out the window.

God, the way Kageyama _ smelled _, like crisp winter air and soap mixed with a lightly musky cologne. All he wanted to do was bury his nose beneath Kageyama’s ear and breathe him in, taste the sensitive skin there and leave his teeth marks, providing evidence of his presence to any who saw them.

Tsukishima can count on one hand how many times he’s been choked by lust for another person, Suga being number one on that short list. Tsukishima’s had sex with a fair amount of people, both guys and girls, and finding the mood isn’t hard by no means. However, it’s not the same as being into someone to the point you wanna drown in them, and yes, compatibility and such play a big factor, but Tsukishima never counted on feeling so positively rocked by this awkward college kid. Tsukishima isn’t sure what it is that draws him to the scowling, blue eyed volleyball player. On the surface he’s kinda moronic, but there is a depth in his dark eyes that, on closer inspection, reveals there’s more to Kageyama than one might at first perceive. And for Tsukishima, there has to be a level of intelligence for anything deeper than pure hormones to take root. Combine that with the way Kageyama plays his sport and his model-quality appearance and Tsukishima is...well shook. 

The only unfortunate part is his age, which Tsukishima still gets hung up on. In the moment—when his body is responding to Kageyama, static want rolling through him like lightning through storm clouds—it’s easy to forget the gap. And maybe some wouldn’t be put out by it, but the kid _ is _ still a virgin and five years his junior, which gives Tsukishima pause.

Tsukishima had driven him home after their lesson, the ride pleasantly silent. He pulled up to the curb and let the car idle as Kageyama, perhaps unconsciously, attempted to drag out the moment with stilted conversation. There was a street lamp nearby that spilled its pale yellow light into the car mostly hidden in shadow, the soft golden hues falling across Kageyama’s face and giving him a softer appearance despite the permanent scowl pasted to his expression. They talked more about what happened that day, skirting around the tension between them and what it all could mean, and Tsukishima could hardly focus distracted as he was by Kageyama’s full, pouty lips. It was a struggle to keep his dick from making its presence known as it twitched against his leg everytime Kageyama glanced at him with a small shy smile. It was torture stifling the urge to let his eyes roll over Kageyama’s chest, the tee shirt pulling tight with every inhalation, or his long muscular legs as they bounced in nervousness. One or two times Tsukishima failed in holding back his desire to just _ look _ when Kageyama’s eyes were focused elsewhere, though he conspicuously noticed the same from Kageyama when he thought Tsukishima was not paying attention. Each time sent a thrill of pride and want rolling through him, and he had to fight back a shudder in those moments.

And _ fuck _, when Kageyama was finally ready to leave, the moment just before he stepped out of the car, he turned to Tsukishima and opened his mouth to say one last thing, but his blue eyes, blown with desire, locked onto Tsukishima’s mouth and it seemed then he forgot what he planned to say. Those few seconds stretched between them like warm taffy, thick and sticky with longing that clung to them, connecting them. That was the most difficult part of the evening for Tsukishima, everything in him screaming to lean forward and claim Kageyama’s mouth, force his tongue between pink lips and taste him from the inside. Tsukishima couldn’t fight it then when he found himself staring at Kageyama’s mouth in turn. The heat in the car ramped up by several degrees as the tension between them pulled so tight it felt like the barest movement or word would snap it and they’d cave to the moment.

But it didn’t happen. Tsukishima, being the wet blanket and overly responsible person he is, let the moment pass, turning away. The look of disappointment that crossed Kageyama’s face made his stomach hurt, but it was for the best. Regardless of Tsukishima’s reservations, he wasn’t about to take advantage of Kageyama in the back of his car in a public place. And let’s be honest, if Tsukishima had kissed Kageyama in that moment, he would have definitely, _without a doubt_, dragged the boy into the backseat of his car and buried himself so far into his ass Kageyama would have been unable to make it to practice the next day. Or the day after either, because Tsukishima would have _ruined_ _him_.

Instead, Tsukishima sits in his car after dropping Kageyama off, and he’s pathetically lonely with a semi between his legs that he steadily ignores. He’s been down this road before, he’s not going to..._ sulley _ (ick) Kageyama by fapping to thoughts of him.

Except Tsukishima _ really _wants to. He sighs, shoving the fingers of one hand beneath his glasses to rub harshly at his eyes. The back and forth of his desire and feelings is exhausting. Tsukishima taps an unconscious beat on the steering wheel before groaning and opening the car door, finally heaving himself into the cold night. He trudges up the metal stairs to his apartment and shoves his key into the lock when he stops before his door. Stepping inside, Tsukishima toes off his shoes, kicking them against the wall so he wouldn’t trip over them, then slips into his house shoes. 

He makes a beeline for his small kitchenette, yanking open the refrigerator and snatching a bottle of beer from the shelf. The moment he opens it, he drains three quarters of the bottle before pausing to breathe. Tsukishima hopes it will help the echo of arousal still heating his skin, but it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. So, Tsukishima takes a cold shower.

Eventually he slips into his bed, snuggling down into warm blankets as the street lights outside press through the cheap blinds covering his bedroom window. Its stripes the ceiling and far wall in yellow and black, and all he can think of is the way Kageyama looked in those last few minutes before he exited Tsukishima’s car. His eyes were almost midnight in the semi-darkness, shadowed by long, dark lashes, and his lips had been slightly swollen as he worried them between his teeth during the ride home. Tsukishima had wanted to taste them _ so bad _. 

Are they as soft as they look? Tsukishima wonders if he can get them to plump up even more, make them red as sin. He wonders how Kageyama kisses. Is he all teeth and passion? Is he reserved and meticulous? Will he make noise as he’s taken apart under Tsukishima?

Will he…

Tsukishima wonders about these things as if it’s an actual possibility. But _ fuck _ he wants Kageyama. Feeling the solidness of him pressing against Tsukishima’s front was _ torture _ when all he wanted was to run his finger over the planes of his muscular stomach and grind his cock into Kageyama’s ass. 

This line of thought is doing nothing to quell Tsukishima’s libido. His cock, which had finally relaxed, was now quickly hardening, and Tsukishima is starting to lose his grip on his self-control, his desire overwhelming his conscience. He shuffles around in bed, turning onto his back, trying to get comfortable. But the slow simmering heat that had been bubbling under his skin since leaving the SpoCha is getting warmer and warmer. His spine tingles from the lust he feels, like little explosions making their way down from his hairline to his tailbone, and he can’t seem to get comfortable or stay still. His cock is beginning to strain as his mind provides him with the various ways his night could have ended in his car if he hadn’t been such a pussy. It’s obvious Kageyama wants him, but Tsukishima was _ trying _to be a respectable adult. 

Tsukishima is leaking. He hasn’t even touched his cock and he’s leaking already, twitching to the beat of his racing heart beneath the bedcovers. He’s starting to ache with the need for friction and, fuck, if he does this, he’s not sure how he’ll ever look Kageyama in the face again. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself from pinning the kid to the nearest wall and dropping to his knees.

Isn’t that a thought. How surprised would Kageyama be to watch Tsukishima in all his prideful glory sink to the floor to suck him down his throat?

_ Fuck. _

Tsukishima’s hand slides down his chest and dips beneath the waistband of his shorts. He lets his fingertips graze his shaft, sucking in a sharp breath at the sensation. His mind wanders freely now that he’s relinquished control, submitting to this desire he’s been ignoring for months. 

He thinks back on their moment in the car, imagining leaning over the center console. His hand raises to wrap around the back of Kageyama’s head as Tsukishima closes the last bit of distance between them, blue eyes going impossibly wide in shock before closing on their own when Tsukishima’s lips _ finally _find his. Tsukishima imagines a whine of surprise as he brushes Kageyama’s lips in a chaste kiss, that sinful mouth opening in shock. Tsukishima would slip his tongue inside before Kageyama has time to react, ravish the inside of his mouth, taste every inch of him until Kageyama is breathless and panting. 

And when Kageyama is little more than putty in his hands, Tsukishima would trail his lips from Kageyama’s jaw to his ear and whisper, “I’m going to make you scream.”

Tsukishima wraps his hand around his cock and gives himself a slow stroke, enjoying the fantasy.

_ They make it into the backseat despite the awkwardness of both their long legs. It’s uncomfortable, but comfort is the last thing on both their minds as their hands roam in desperation, cataloguing every dip and valley on each others’ bodies. It’s a struggle to remove their clothes, but despite the gracelessness of it all there is laughter and a sense of playfulness. Tsukishima hasn’t seen Kageyama smile much, but every quirk of Kageyama’s lips makes Tsukishima feel more powerful than any championship belt he’s won so far. _

_ Tsukishima produces a bottle of lube (because it’s his fantasy and he can), popping the cap. Kageyama moans against his lips, hips rolling against his as he tries to find needed friction in the confined space. Kageyama is laid out in the backseat, leaning against the door, long legs bent in a way that looks positively uncomfortable. However, he’s flushed down to his chest and his eyes are bright with happiness. He smiles up at Tsukishima, shy and wanting, and Tsukishima’s cock jumps between them. He leans in to kiss Kageyama once again, rolling his tongue against Kageyama’s as he warms the lube on his fingers. _

_ Tsukishima lets his hand travel down Kageyama’s trim abs, smirking as they contract at the touch of his fingers. Kageyama’s breath hitches and Tsukishima looks up to see he’s closed his eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth and his face contorted in concentration as he fights back against voicing his pleasure. That just doesn’t work for Tsukishima. _

_ He wraps his hand around Kageyama’s cock, humming in approval as it fills his hand. It’s not as long and a little thicker than he would have thought. Tsukishima grins because at some point he’s going to sit on it and enjoy every fucking moment. _

The thought of taking Kayegama’s purity—both ways—is a thought that has Tsukishima grabbing at the base of his cock, gritting his teeth hard as he wills back orgasming prematurely. He may only be fantasizing, but he plans to enjoy every dirty moment if he’s going to use Kageyama in this way.

_ For all his effort to hold back his voice, Kageyama keens when Tsukishima strokes him with slow, tight movements. His jaw drops open, a high pitched, but soft noise spilling from his swollen lips that shoots straight to Tsukishima’s cock. He wants to fist himself, touch himself in time to the strokes he gives Kageyama, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon. He’s too keyed up as it is, and his impatience would win out over his desire to watch Kageyama fall apart under his hand if he pays too much attention to his neglected dick. _

_ He thumbs through the precum on the tip of Kageyama’s swollen head, the beads of fluid bubbling out in a steady stream. It’s obviously the first time Kageyama’s had someone else’s hand on his cock, his hips thrust erratically as he unconsciously tries to force Tsukishima to pick up speed. Tsukishima ignores him. _

_ “Feel good?” He asks instead, a teasing grin in place. Kageyama opens his eyes and Tsukishima’s heart thumps hard in his chest, his stomach tightening as blue eyes blown inky black pin him where he sits. Kageyama looks wrecked and desperate, and he enthusiastically nods, unable to produce anything more than squeaky grunts of pleasure. Tsukishima leans in and kisses him gently and whispers against his lips, “You have no idea of the things I wish to do to you. To make you feel.” _

_ Kageyama moans then, a filthy sound that makes Tsukishima answer with a moan of his own as he spurts more precum from his own cock, the feel of sticky wetness slipping down his shaft and sac. He contemplates making Kageyama cum with his hand on his cock, then finishing himself off and blowing his load all over that slender but defined chest. He would rather fuck Kageyama, but he seriously doesn’t want their first time to be in the back of a cramped car. In an effort to compromise, Tsukishima leans back, releasing Kageyama’s cock. Kageyama actually whines in disappointment, and when Tsukishima looks at him, there are tears in his eyes. With his clean hand he swipes his thumb under one eye and smiles at Kageyama, then sits back against the seat, picking up the bottle of lube once again. _

_ “C’mere,” he beckons and Kageyama listens, sitting up quickly and moving to straddle Tsukishima. He’s stopped with one of Tsukishima’s big hands on his chest, and Tsukishima is briefly distracted by the way his hand takes up so much space across his pecks. Kageyama isn’t small, but Tsukishima has always just been...bigger. Taller than most, at first, than broader by way of consistent weight lifting. He doesn’t dwarf Kageyama, but the young man still feels slighter in his arms. It makes something Tsukishima never thought he’d feel ache in his chest. _

_ “Turn around,” he says. Kageyama complies, maneuvering slowly to do just that, pressing his back to Tsukishima’s chest, just like earlier in the park. Tsukishima prevents him from spreading his legs, looking over Kageyama’s shoulder at the definition of muscle in those strong thighs and the cock that stands upright, red, and leaking amidst a patch of inky, curly hair. _

_ “Fuck your gorgeous,” Tsukishima whispers, the words slipping from him by accident, and while he feels the heat in his face from embarrassment, he can make out the same redness in the tips of Kageyama’s ears. _

_ “Shut up,” Kageyama mumbles, but the shiver of pleasure Tsukishima feels against his skin plays the snitch, telling on Kageyama and how much he actually likes the compliment. Tsukishima kisses his shoulder, content not to call him out for the moment and more concerned with making Kageyama call out in pleasure. _

_ He reaches around Kageyama, squirting more lube into his hand, then reaches between Kageyama’s thighs, spreading the thick liquid between them. Kageyama watches in silence, and Tsukishima can see his eyebrows furrowed in question, and Tsukishima wonders if Kageyama ever watches porn. _

_ “I’m going to fuck your thighs,” he tells Kageyama who looks back at him in confusion. If Kageyama has no idea what Intercrural sex is, then Tsukishima is going to have so much fun teaching him. He’s going to enjoy teaching him _ so many _ things. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it. I promise.” _

_ Kageyama doesn’t answer, but he places a kiss on Tsukishima’s lips, a soft sweet thing that says wordlessly that he trusts Tsukishima. He is so fucked for this kid. _

_ While Kageyama is looking at him, Tsukishima shoves his hands between them. “Lift up,” he says, positioning Kageyama over his hard cock and holding it by the base. “Remember, keep your thighs tight, okay.” Kageyama nods at him, still watching his face. He lets himself sink down slowly, Tsukishima’s cock sliding between hard, slick thighs. Kageyama’s eyes dart all over his face, taking in every minute expression, and this is one time Tsukishima allows his dispassionate cloak to fall and lets Kageyama see what he does to him. _

_ Tsukishima grunts, low, his head tipping back against the seat and eyes closing. “Holy fuck, you feel good.” _

_ “Tsuki-“ _

_ “Kei. Call me Kei,” Tsukishima interrupts, desperately wanting to hear his name spill from those lips. _

_ “Kei…” Kageyama rumbles low and soft, and Tsukishima allows himself to moan in appreciation as he shifts, rolling his hips upward with a short thrust. Kageyama gasps, one hands grasping at Tsukishima’s thigh and the other grabbing at the arm that’s now wrapped around his waist. He opens his eyes when Kageyama rests his forehead against his temple, warm breath puffing in his face. _

_ “Kei...do that again,” Kageyama whispers. _

_ Tsukishima doesn’t hesitate, thrusting a little harder. “Did you like that?” He asks, craving to hear Kageyama’s voice again. _

_ “Ngh...y-yeah.” _

_ Tsukishima keeps thrusting, rolling his hips slow but hard, pressing himself against the underside of Kageyama’s sac, feeling how they jump when his cock does. _

_ “Tell me, Tobio,” he pushes, relishing the way Kageyama’s breath hitches when he says his name. “Tell me what it feels like.” _

_ Kageyama whines, his hands tightening on Tsukishima’s thighs and wrist. “I don’t-I don’t know.” _

_ “Yes you do.” Tsukishima thrusts harder, his arm sliding from Kageyama’s waist so he can grip his hip and pull him down to meet the cant of his hips. “Tell me.” _

_ “Fuck...hah..it’s good...w-wet and sl-ick…” _

_ “Yeah? You like it? Like how I feel sliding against you?” _

_ Kageyama moans, loud. _

_ “Wanna be inside you...wanna feel your tight hole squeezing me tighter than your thighs do…” _

_ “Kei! Please!” _

Tsukishima quicken’s his strokes, palming at the head and spreading the precum to ease the slide of his hand. He moans softly in the blackness of his room, whispering to himself the things he’d say to Kageyama as he fucked his thighs.

_ “Wanna fill you up...fuck you hard until you’re crying, begging me to let you cum…” _

_ Kageyama cries out, throwing his head back as his grip on Tsukishima becomes almost painful. Tsukishima latches onto his neck, sucking and biting, marking him up as proof he was there. He wraps his hand still covered in lube around Kageyama’s angry, leaking cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. His other hand releases Kageyama’s hip and spreads itself across his chest, his thumb landing against a nipple. He teases it mindlessly, feeling it plump and harden against the toughened pad. Kageyama’s jaw drops open, his moans and whines coming unabashed now. He rocks his hips, unconsciously engaging in the dance Tsukishima leads, and his participation makes Tsukishima thrust harder with purpose. _

_ “Fuck...Tobio...want you so bad...wanna make you feel good…” _

_ A garbled mantra of his name spills repeatedly from Kageyama’s lips in answer, and Tsukishima leans his head back to watch him come apart. Kageyama’s eyes are squeezed closed, his chest heaving with exertion. He’s beautiful. _

_ “You’ll let me, right? Let me fuck you stupid?” _

_ “Yes! Fuck yes! Anything!” _

_ “Tobio...hah...gonna...wanna watch you come…” _

_ “Kei, yes...close!” _

_ “C’mon, baby, be good for me, yeah? Come for me?” _

_ Kageyama rocks against him, ass shoving into Tsukishima’s hips with every roll, every tug of Tsukishima’s hand. Kageyama reaches behind him, hand coming up to twine his fingers in Tsukishima’s hair and he pulls, hard, as his body goes rigid. With a shout he’s coming all over himself and Tsukishima hand, spurts of thick fluid spilling over Tsukishima fingers and shooting up as far as his chest. _

_ “That’s it,” Tsukishima grunts, “So good for me, you're so beautiful…” Tsukishima fucks Kageyama through his orgasm, speeding up his movements when he feels Kageyama relaxing. “That was so sexy, watching you was so sexy…” he says, babbling as he chases his own orgasm between Kageyama’s trembling thighs. His balls draw up and with one last thrust, Tsukishima spills his load, cum bubbling from his slit like a slowly erupting volcano, pooling in the area where his cock is trapped between Kageyama’s thighs. It’s such a beautiful sight. _

Tsukishima’s hand jerks hard and fast over his length, the blankets kicking up with each upstroke, the muffled smack of his fist against the cloth almost too loud but drowned out by his grunts and heavy pants in his darkened bedroom. When Tsukishima imagines himself cumming, his slickness covering Kageyama, thighs, his body responds in reality, tipping over the edge in an orgasm that hits him so hard he nearly chokes on the air. He spills over his hand, soaking his shorts, and groaning long and loud. It feels like it goes on forever as he milks himself to thoughts of Kageyama sitting in his lap, covered in his own and Tsukishima’s spend.

When his muscles finally relax, he sinks back into his bed, boneless. The orgasm had been so good, but ultimately unsatisfying. He wants the real thing, and his fantasy only makes his want more difficult to restrain.

Tsukishima sighs. How much longer is he going to be able to hold back?

**&&&**

Tsukishima’s been acting...weird. His moods are always fickle and his default attitude is always fuck off, but today is..._ different. _ He’s snippy and oddly _ apologetic _ about it. Not that he verbalizes any apologies, it’s more the general aura around him and the, frankly, disconcerting puppy dog eyes he sends at Kageyama whenever Tsukishima says or answers more aggressively than is needed.

Kageyama is...concerned? He doesn’t know what to do, or what _ he’s done _ to cause such strangeness in Tsukishima’s behavior. And he’s not sure he wants to ask.

Kageyama has been making appearances at the gym more often since that night in the park. It had felt like something shifted between Tsukishima and him, or at least that’s what Kageyama thought. He’d gone home that night more excited than he’d been in a while, even despite the rejection in Tsukishima’s car. He laid in bed, replaying the events, trying to recapture the feeling of Tsukishima’s arm around his shoulder, his hands at his hips, his back pressed against Tsukishima’s chest. He could almost feel Tsukishima’s warm breath on his neck, even a couple of hours after returning to his room. He got off twice that night just remembering, hopeful and unsatisfied because he wanted the real thing.

When Hinata takes a break, Kageyama makes his way across the gym to him. “Do you know what’s up with Tsukishima?” He asks, leaning over so it’s only Hinata who hears him.

Hinata lowers the water bottle he’d been draining and looks over his shoulder at the blonde. Tsukishima was currently wrapping his hands and preparing to spar with Chigaya. He glances up as if he can tell their eyes are on him, and this is normally where he’d _ tch _ and either stare them down with a malicious glare, or ignore them like they were insignificant pests. However, this time Tsukishima’s eyes dart away as soon as they meet Kageyama’s as if he’s... _ embarrassed. _ Then he walks away, climbing inside the ring, putting in his mouth guard and stuffing his hands into his sparring gloves. He didn’t look back.

Kageyama scoffs, feeling a little irritated because he can’t get a read on this guy and it’s driving him insane. 

“Huh,” Hinata grunts, and Kageyama shoots a glance in his direction before staring at the back of Tsuksihima’s head. Hinata seemed just as perplexed as Kageyama. “That’s really weird,” Hinata comments and Kageyama snorts. 

“Right? What’s his deal. The hell did I do now?”

Hinata looks up at him, sipping from his water bottle. He shrugs and says, “I don’t think it’s you, Bakayama.”

Kageyama glares at the little imp and reaches for his head, squeezing when he gets a hold of it. “I told you to stop calling me that. And what else could it be?” He argues.

“Ow! Asshole, le’go!” He yells, trying to pry Kageyama’s hand from his head. It’s a matter of pride that despite his stocky stature, Kageyama is still a little stronger than him. 

“I mean it, boke, I’ll fucking kidney punch you.” 

Kageyama lets go with a wicked grin and Hinata galres up at him, mumbling about going bald. “I don’t know why he’s acting like that. Go ask him if you want to know so bad.”

And with that, Hinata stalks off to his next exercise, leaving Kageyama to stew in his doubts. He wasn’t going to ask about Tuskishima’s mood. He wasn’t suicidal.

The bell ringing startles Kageyama from his thoughts and he jerks his head around to see Tuskishima’s sparring match begin with Chigaya. Kageyama’s stomach clenches and his heart rate picks up as it does every time Tuskishima fights. He quickly walks back over to the ring to watch, choosing a spot against the wall, as he leans against it, arms crossed over his chest and studies Tsukishima and his opponent.

Chigaya is a few inches taller than Tsukishima, and just as broad. His soft, brown eyes hold confidence but not condescension; he’s sure of himself without being arrogant. Kageyama has never met him or seen him fight, and would ask someone, if anyone were nearby. He could go ask Daichi for his stats, but honestly, Daichi’s intimidating and Kageyama doesn’t like bothering him with trivial matters. Besides, Kageyama should learn all he needs in the next few minutes. 

Chigaya wastes no time in measuring his opponent. He moves in, close, forcing Tsukishima to tighten his defense. Chigaya jabs at him with a left, and Tuskishima tries to block, but the taller fighter is fast, and he doesn’t slow as he jabs and goes for a cross with his right. Tsukishima manages to push him off, gaining a few inches and precious seconds of reprieve. His expression is already contorted in frustration, like he’s come up against a wall he doesn’t know how to climb.

Kageyama pushes off the wall, shaking his head, drawn to the ring. He can tell which way this fight is leaning already.

Tsukishima steps back, hands up by his chin and preparing for a right jab. Chigaya sees it and slips it, but Tsukishima’s attack was a fake out and as soon as Chigaya enters his space, Tsukishima drops his left leg and hits him with a left hook to his body.

Kageyama catches himself awkwardly fist pumping in excitement, but it quickly turns Kageyama grasping at the ropes when Chigaya uses Tsukishima’s short lead against him. Tsukishima grunts, his face scrunching in discomfort when he’s hit in the head with an over-hand right shot. Momentarily dazed, Tsukishiam tries to get his bearings but it’s too late. Chigaya takes the opening and slides into the inside and hits Tsukishima with an uppercut to the gut, then a hook, left and right and left again, forcing Tuskishima to guard as he struggles to increase the distance between them. It doesn’t help that Chigaya’s legs are just as long, so unlike a short, inside fighter, Chigaya is able to close the space between them much faster and keep up with Tsukishima as he retreats. 

The bell ringing makes Kageyama’s breath hitch. Chigaya backs off immediately, stepping back from Tsukishima and dropping his hands, his chest heaving with every breath. He offers Tsukishima a smile, but only gets a dead-eyed stare in return. Tsukishima is pissed, Kageyama can see it in the tight line of his mouth. He stands by silently as Tsukishima is lectured by Ukai, and Chigaya has taken the opportunity to talk to Daichi on the other side of the canvas.

It’s only a few minutes until Ukai is walking off and leaving Tsukishima to stew in his melancholy, and Kageyama hesitantly approaches him. 

Tsukishima barely glances at him, whatever had been bothering him earlier lost beneath the frustration and disappointment. “Not now, I’m not in the mood,” He says before Kegayama can open his mouth. Kageyama pauses, watching him unwrap and flex his fingers before rewrapping them in the sweat stained ribbon.

“You need to move faster.”

Tsukishima stops what he’s doing, frozen in place and staring at his hands. “Excuse me?” He grits out, raising his eyes slowly, like military ordnance locked onto a target it’s prepared to take out. Kageyama can practically hear the countdown to impact, but he’s prepared to take on the fall out, committed to communicating his opinion.

“You need to move faster,” he repeats.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. What I don’t understand is why you feel the need to share your oh-so-experienced opinion on my fighting style?”

Kageyama scowls at him and opens his mouth to deliver some much needed ass ripping, except Tsukishima doesn’t let him get a word out.

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t actually expecting an answer. So, if you don’t mind, I would like to get back to my sparring session.” Tsukishima stares him down, obviously intending to scare Kageyama away. What Tsukishima doesn’t know is that Kageyama is not and has never been afraid of him. At least not in the way that Tsukishima is insinuating. 

“Look, dick,” Kageyama growls, and Tuskishima’s head snaps up and his eyes grow wide. “You. Need. To. Move. Faster. You get too far into your own head and it slows you down. You think quick, so your body should keep up. Fucking get over yourself and move faster!”

Tsukishima scoffs, “What would you know about it, you little shit?!”

“More than you apparently! At least I’m not a scared little bitch!”

“I’m sorry I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego! You still think you know it all!””

“I know you’re actually a talented fighter and you could win if you pulled your head out of your ass!”

Tsukishima stares back at Kageyama, shock leaving his jaw hanging wide open before it snaps shut and a pink blush crawling across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. “_ Tch _,” he scoffs, eyes darting to the side. Tsukishima sniffs. “I don’t take orders from you, King.”

Now it’s Kageyama’s turn to blush at the nickname casually falling from Tuskishima’s mouth. Kageyama wonders if Tsukshima knows the origin of the nickname, because surely he wouldn’t have used it if he did. Kageyama ducks his head and scratches at his nose.

It’s then he notices how quiet it’s gotten in the gym. He looks up and around, his face growing redder because every eye in the room is looking straight at the two of them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Oh god,” Tuskishima mumbles, drawing Kageyama’s attention to him. He’s also looking around too and though he’s less tomato-like, his discomfort is still felt. He looks back at Kageyama and the weird attitude that seemed to plague Tsukishima from earlier has returned. Tsukishima runs a hand through his hair, then rubs at the back of his neck.

“Look, King,” Tsukshiam begins, but Kageyama interrupts him.

“Don’t call me that,” Kageyama grumbles without looking at him, eyes trained on the floor beneath his sneakered feet.

Above him, Tsukishima sighs. “I’m-”

“For the sake of all our sanity, please just fuck already!”

The amount of blood that races to his face has Kageyama wondering how he manages to stay standing. The situation is mirrored in Tuskishima’s expression. Tuskishima abruptly turns on his heel to berate the individual who said that, Kuroo’s smug grin making it obvious it was him.

Tsukishima glares at the older fighter for a brief moment before offering a _ Tch _in response and stomping off, shoving his way through the ropes and stalking off to hide in the locker room.

“That’s probably an invitation,” Kuroo continues, speaking to Kageyama who turns his mortified gaze on him. “Do yourself, him, and the rest of us a favor and go work off your obvious sexual tension.”

Kageyama drops down into a crouch, covering his face with his hands as the gym explodes in chuckles and cat calls. Kageyama’s entire being is on fire.

“Kuroo, shut the hell up and mind your own damn business!” Daichi snaps at him, but Kageyama can’t spare a single thought of thankfulness, Kuroo’s words keep repeating in his ears in surround sound. It’s weird how he’s torn between following on Tsukishima’s heels, as was excruciatingly and explicitly suggested, and running for his life and away from the gym.

Yet, one thing Kageyama is sure of is that he’s probably going to die either way.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos very welcome.
> 
> LOVE MEEEEEE!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, another chapter has been added to the total count. I know I promised you resolution, closure, smut, but I had to do it. I had to split chapter 9 into two because it's at 11K words and still going strong. So, here's the good news: Chapter 10 is basically smut. Like, there are maybe four paragraphs total that are dialogue/inner dialogue and post-sex stuff, but the rest is nothing but fucking. I'm at 4k words, so you tell me how much porn that is. Anywho, sorry for the tease.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta, stacysmash. 
> 
> Thank you to all the wonderful readers, kudos button pushers, and commenters. I love you.

The locker room at the stadium is silent. There is the drip of water coming from the shower, soft squeak of the overhead lamps and the buzz of electricity coming from the flickering bulbs, and the hum of the air conditioning. Not too mention the muffled sounds of the crowd in the amphitheater, but for all intents and purposes, the locker room is as silent as a grave.

Tsukishima sits on the bench in front of the short row of lockers, his robe draped over his naked shoulders. He rests his elbows on his thighs, hands hanging loosely between his legs. One leg bounces up and down, the only physical display of nerves he shows as he sits there in solitude with his eyes closed waiting for his manager to come and get him. Ukai left with the referee several minutes ago as is their routine, because Tsukishima likes the silence before a match to get in the right headspace. Not that he’s finding that headspace at the moment, the isolation exaggerating his nerves rather than quieting them. He’s about to fight Miya again and only one question is rolling around in his head.

Why?

Why is he doing this again?

Why is he bent on repeatedly embarrassing himself?

Why does he keep chasing this impossible dream?

But also, why did Miya even bother to agree to yet another fight? This will be the fourth time he’s fought the guy in so many years and not once had Tsukishima won against him, so it’s not like Miya has a reputation to defend. Maybe he just likes kicking Tsukishima while he’s down. Who really knew?

Tsukishima’s pity party is interrupted as the door to the locker room squeaks open.

_ Is it time already? _

He stands up, feeling wholly unprepared to face Miya again and dreading having to carry on his shoulders the disappointment of his coach and manager, of himself, and horribly enough, Kageyama. Tsukishima knows he’s out there in the crowd, waiting, believing in the impossible.

Tsukishima steel’s himself and turns to face his doom, but instead of his ever patient manager, it’s Bokuto standing just inside the door. He’s got his hands in the pockets of his jeans and he’s just...watching Tsukishima. Watching him with the same expression he used to when Tsukishima was still new in the amateur circuit, his big golden eyes full of fondness.

Tsukishima scrunches his nose, caught off guard by one of his friends dropping into the locker room before a match. This never happens. Tsukishima has made sure they know he needs not nor wants their distractions when he expects to be mentally preparing for a fight. However, for some reason, he can’t usher up the nerve to chew his mentor out for disregarding his request. 

“What?” Tsukishima snaps instead, suddenly feeling as new and nervous as he was at his first match.

“Why do you fight, Tsuki?”

The question shakes Tsukishima, the world around him cresting and bottoming out as if feeling the aftershocks of an earthquake. He’d been asking himself the same thing for the last twenty minutes. He never expected to be called out by Bokuto of all people. He gaped at his mentor, brain completely blank. 

Bokuto sighs and rubs at his carefully crafted spikes, “Out of all our friends, I think we understand each other the best.”

Tsukishima jerks, confounded. He and Bokuto? That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Don’t believe me?” Bokuto asks with a raised eyebrow and smirk tilting his lips at the corners.

“You’re kidding,” Tsukishima chokes out past his shock. “You and I couldn’t be more different if we tried.”

Bokuto laughs heartily, finding no offense in an obvious truth. He knows Tsukishima better than that. “True, true,” he agrees. He takes a deep breath and makes his expression serious. “We _ are _ very different, Tsuki. Off the canvas, that is.”

Tsukishima tilts his head and squints at him, still not following Bokuto’s direction. 

“You and I have a tendency to get in our heads,” he says at last, pride in his revelation apparent in the way he stands with legs spread and arms crossed. “What do you think is happening when I get in my moods? I’ve gotten in my head, doubted myself.”

The tension in his shoulders releases and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Yes, that may be so,” he replies, agreeing and disagreeing with Bokuto’s statement, “But you don’t stay there, you always find a way out. In that sense we are very different, Bokuto-san. Also, no matter what condition you’re in, you’re still a better fighter than me.”

“Not true,” Bokuto states. “I just have the advantage of age and experience.”

Tsukishima shakes his head. This wasn’t helping, and as much as he appreciated Bokuto’s attempt at encouragement, his presence was eating into the time Tsukishima needed to prepare.

“Listen, Bokuto-san, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-“

“Ask me why I fight, Tsuki. Go on, ask me.” Bokuto stares at him, his expression saying he wouldn’t budge no matter what. Tsukishima tries not to let the irritation poking at him show, but he knows he’ll get nowhere by being stubborn. Best to indulge Bokuto, and later, tell Akaashi he needs to shorten his boyfriend’s leash.

Tsukishima sighs, and in a dead voice asks, “Why do you fight, Bokuto-san?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Tsukishima crosses his arms and huffs out an aggravated breath through his nose, shaking his head. “Bokuto-san, that’s all well and good, but whether or not boxing is fun will have little bearing on my ability. I’m obviously lacking against Miya-“

“You’re not,” Bokuto interrupts, earning a glare from Tsukishima. He is now truly frustrated, having wasted the last few minutes he desperately needed to himself. Not that it was actually helping.

“You know, fighting used to be a chore.”

Tsukishima looks at Bokuto, incredulity etched across his features. This is something he hadn’t heard.

“It’s true. For a long time I loved fighting but didn’t enjoy it, and I think that happens for a lot of fighters. Somewhere along the way it gets...monotonous. That’s right, right? I used that word right?” Bokuto shakes his head, not waiting for an answer. “Nevermind, the point is, the pressure, the constant hits you take to your confidence, and the ladder you climb to achieve more and more gets higher and higher. It’s never ending and the talent you depended on begins to feel ordinary, greatness feels like it gets farther away.”

Tsukishima stares at his mentor. He’d never known Bokuto felt this way at any point in his career, he’s always been this star, the kind of fighter with a story that everyone wants. Tsukishima has never known that someone like Bokuto could ever know—or understand—how he feels.

“How—how did you overcome it?” Tsukishima asks, drawn into Bokuto’s words like a man dying of thirst and Bokuto has the only water.

Bokuto shrugs, then grins, his bright, honey-colored eyes intense. “I remembered why I became a fighter in the first place, the first TKO I got and all the ones that followed, the reason I get into the ring in the first place. I fight because there’s nothing like the powerful feeling of sending your competitor to the canvas and listening to the Ref count him out. There’s nothing like it and I chase that high with every match. Fighting is fun because of that, not just the strategy or the skill, but the fun of beating your opponent with a single hit they can’t come back from. All of the rest—the popularity and the rankings—it all just fades to background noise. I fight because I like it, the rest is just icing.”

Tsukishima stares at Bokuto, but his thoughts are far away, remembering what it was like to watch his brother fight.

“Do you remember why you started fighting in the first place, Tsuki?”

Tsukishima opens his mouth to answer, but never gets the chance as Takeda interrupts, pushing through the door and stopping with surprise in his big brown eyes when they fall on Bokuto.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a slight blush, “But it’s time for Tsukishima to fight.

Bokuto waves him off indicating he is finished anyway. He turns and steps past Takeda out of the door and pauses, looking back over his shoulder and saying, “Just think about it, Tsuki.” Then he’s gone, leaving Tsukishima with Takeda and the echoing silence.

_ Do you remember why you started fighting? _

How is he supposed to answer that?

“Are you ready?” Takeda asks him. Tsukishima blinks once, shaking himself from his thoughts and silently nods his head. 

“Okay, Tsukishima-kun, lets go.”

Tsukishima grabs his gloves and shoves his hands into them. Takeda pulls his hood up for him.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima mumbles.

“Your welcome,” Takeda answers. “Tsukishima, you’ve got this.” 

Takeda’s expression is so genuine, his eyes bright with belief that Tsukishima can win. His confidence in him has Tsukishima’s fingers and toes buzzing, and it’s a feeling he’s unused to when he’s about to enter the ring. 

He nods and follows Takeda out of the locker room, through the halls, and past the entrance to the main amphitheater. The noise of the crowd is loud, most of the cheering is directed at Miya who’s already in the ring. For reasons unknown, Tsukishima is unbothered by this. All the cheering and yelling begins to quiet in his head, drowned out by Bokuto’s question.

And Tsukishima can’t help but ask himself, _ does _he remember?

He descends the steps, his mind whirling with thoughts and questions, his gaze everywhere and nowhere at once. Then it lands on a head of ink black hair and wide, blue eyes staring back at him, watching, and Tsukishima remembers being in Kageyama’s position, watching from the edge of the crowd during one of his games as Kageyama effortlessly led his team to victory, his confidence in his own abilities so strong Tsukishima could feel it from the balcony stands.

Tsukishima remembers a time he used to feel like that.

He pulls his eyes away, trying to regain his focus and ignore the effect Kageyama always seems to have on him whenever they lock eyes. He breathes through his nose, approaching the ring and climbing through the ropes and onto the canvas.

After that, time seems to spin away from him, Ukai’s last minute advice drowning under his own memories and questions, and the announcer’s voice no more than a _ whomp whomp _. 

Tsukishima looks at Miya as they’re brought to the center of the ring to touch gloves. His expression is as bland and bored as usual, but beneath it is a smugness that makes Tsukishima’s gut clench and his fists tighten. He hates that look, like Miya just knows how this will end, and maybe the bastard’s right. Maybe the match will end the same as the others, but Tsukishima can’t stand that Miya’s has already decided it. He can’t stand that he’s being pegged as a loser from the gate.

The bell rings and they bump gloves, and Tsukishima dances backward.

_ Tsukishima is six when his brother declares he wants to box. He’s been following the fighting circuit for several months, one of his buddies turning him onto the scene and it just grabbed Akiteru with both hands. His brother’s big, brown eyes are wide with excitement and his face flushed, and Tsukishima stares at him as Akiteru rushes through his argument, trying to convince their parents of his sincere interest. _

Tsukishima raises his gloves, steadily watching Miya, analyzing his intentions. Miya makes the first move, darting forward to jab at Tsukishima with his right fist. Tsukishima blocks it, but doesn’t retaliate, and Miya huffs at him in amusement.

“Chickening out already, Tsuki-kun?”

Tsukishima sneers at him, refusing to be goaded into his baiting.

_ Tsukishima is nine the first time he’s allowed to go to a live match. His father takes him, holding his hand so he doesn’t get lost in the crowd. Akiteru still fights in the amateur circuit, he’s only fifteen, but the rumors circulating around Akiteru say that he’s a promising contender for the professional circuit. He’s got talent and brains, and his star is on the rise. _

_ Tsukishima watches the match in awe, watches as his brother fights like his life depends on it, all technical skill and no wasted movement. It’s like watching a dance and Tsukishima decides then that this is what he wants to do. He wants to be like Akiteru, he wants to float across the canvas, defeating his opponents with grace and skill. _

_ Akiteru wins the match with a TKO, his fifth in his short career, and Tsukishima tells him later, when they're alone, that he wants to fight too. Akiteru laughs and ruffles his hair, promising to put in a good word for him to their parents. _

Tsukishima finds an opening and goes for it, jabbing and hooking. Miya blocks him consistently, but Tsukishima is starting to get frustrated. While he can’t seem to get inside and land a direct hit, Miya is barely participating, his blocks working against Tsukishima but they’re lackluster, like getting in Tsukishima’s way takes little effort. It’s insulting. But it’s also making Tsukishima nervous. He’s throwing his all at Miya and getting nowhere, and Miya’s eyes are laughing at him.

_ Tsukishima is sixteen when he loses his first serious competition. Everyone keeps patting him on the back and telling him he did well, but he knows it’s a lie. He would have won otherwise. Now all he wants is to be left alone. _

_ He doubts himself. He doubts his abilities and his commitment. _

_ Akiteru comes to his room later, finding Tsukishima on his back in bed with an ice pack over one eye. Tsukishima doesn’t say much, hoping if he stays quiet, his brother will leave. He’s frustrated and disappointed, and most importantly embarrassed. His brother came to support him, as well as his parents, and Tsukishima had wanted to make them proud. Akiteru always made them proud. _

_ Akiteru ignored the flat look directed at him and climbed onto Tsukishima’s bed, sitting against the wall with his long legs draped over Tsukishima’s and dangling over the side. He carried a box of strawberry flavored pocky, Tsukishima’s favorite, and nibbles on a stick as they sit in silence. Without a word he tilts the box at Tsukishima who just glares at him, and Akiteru shrugs, chewing on his stick and staring at the wall that houses Tskukishima’s dinosaur figures. _

_ “What do you want, Aki-nii?” _

_ Akiteru doesn’t acknowledge him at first. When he does, he does so without looking at him. “You still wanna be a paleotologist?” _

_ Tsukishima stares at him, one eye twitching. Really, Akiteru is smarter than that. “Paleontologist.” _

_ Akiteru turns and looks at him. “PALEONtologist.” _

_ “You’re such an ass,” Tsukishima sighs. _

_ “And you think too much,” Akiteru replies. _

_ Tsukishima lowers his eyes, not really in a mood for boxing lessons. _

_ “I mean it, Kei. You’re too smart, maybe too smart for the game. You could be anything, really put your big brain to work instead of getting your marbles knocked around.” _

_ Tsukishima plucks at a loose thread. His head hurts and he’s already emotionally wounded from his disappointing loss. Having Akiteru, the one person in the field he truly admires, sitting here and telling him to give up is like having someone dig into an already open wound. _

_ “Is that what you think I should do? Give up?” He asks, his voice quiet, weak. _

_ “Do you still want to be a paleontologist?” Akiteru asks. _

_ Tsukishima can’t help but be drawn to the statuettes on the shelf above his desk. There was a time, long ago, when he entertained the thought of becoming a world renowned scientist, traveling to remote locations and digging through the earth to discover its secrets. _

_ But that was a long time ago. _

_ “That’s what I thought,” Akiteru says, though Tsukishima says nothing. “You’re a thinker, Kei. You depend on analysis and planning, and that’s all well and good, but it can only take you so far. You need intuition, to trust your instincts, and you can’t do that unless you trust yourself.” _

_ Tsukishima looks down at his lap, the cold compress forgotten as he stares at his hands. Did he trust himself? _

_ “Do you even like fighting, Kei?” _

_ Tskukishima’s eyes snap up, finding his brother staring back at him, his expression neutral as he waits for an answer. _

_ “Of course I do,” Tsukishima replies. Of course he does, he loves it. He loves the contact, how it feels to stand over your opponent and see the respect in their eyes when you’ve bested them in a contest of strength and skill. He loves the dance most of all. _

_ He leans over, snatching at the box of pocky and drawing one stick out. Akiteru smirks at him. _

_ “Of course you do.” _

There’s a shift on the canvas. Tsukishima has been on the offensive for three rounds and caught against the ropes twice, barely escaping Miya’s traps. He’s flustered, and panicking, and Miya senses Tsukishima’s spiraling confidence. Like a shark tasting blood in the water.

But Miya’s overconfidence leaves him open at one point, a chink in his impenetrable denfense that Tsukishima locks onto. He doesn’t even think about how to take advantage of it, he jabs with his right, feints with his left, and comes at Miya from the right side with a hook that lands against Miya’s jaw. It doesn’t put him on the floor, but Miya is shook, nonetheless. He wasn’t expecting it, and frankly, neither was Tsukishima.

It just..._happened._ There was an opening and Tsukishima...his intuition just_ took over._

_ “Look, dick,” Kageyama growls, and Tuskishima’s head snaps up and his eyes grow wide. “You. Need. To. Move. Faster. You get too far into your own head and it slows you down. You think quick, so your body should keep up. Fucking get over yourself and move faster!” _

_ Tsukishima scoffs, “What would you know about it, you little shit?!” _

_ “More than you apparently! At least I’m not a scared little bitch!” _

And that’s the thing, all that panic and fear, in that brief moment, it all just vanished. For a split second, Tsukishima saw his opportunity, knew what needed to be done, and reacted, he just let his body do what it knew to do. 

Tsukishima grins. For the first time in a long time he is having..._ fun _.

The bell rings signaling the end of the third round and Tskukishima takes his corner. Ukai jumps up against the ropes shaking his shoulder and yelling praises in his ear while Takeda mops the sweat from his face and helps him take a drink of water.

Tsukishima can’t help but look at the crowd, they’re still loud and screaming, but people are leaning into each other and talking, pointing at him, and for the first time in forever their faces look excited for him. 

He doesn’t mean to, but he glances Kageyama’s way and sees him staring back, his expression serious, but his blue eyes bright and his face flushed. Tsukishima feels invincible.

The bell rings and as he stands he looks over to Bokuto who’s smirking back at him as if he’s a proud father and Tsukishima his son. 

_ “I ask again, Tsuki...why do you fight?” _

Tsukishima meets Miya back in the center of the ring. The bell rings and they knock gloves, taking their stances.

_ Tsukishima is twenty when he watches the fall of his brother in the last match he will ever fight. Akiteru has been struggling for a few years since joining the professional circuit. The opponents are bigger or more skilled, and meaner, with a killer instinct that Akiteru is lacking. He fights, pushing through his growing insecurities and the turning of the crowd's opinion. His rising star is fizzling out, dimming beneath the that of a newcomer, the one they call Little Giant. Akiteru can’t beat him, the other fighter is a wild card, the underdog no one expected to go very far. _

_ It takes three rounds for Akiteru to get knocked down. Tsukishima watches from the sidelines as his brother lays on the canvas, defeated, but not by Udai. He just doesn’t have the heart to try anymore, and Tsukishima can see it in his eyes. _

_ Akiteru retires that year, never stepping foot back into a ring. Tsukishima tries to encourage him like Akiteru did for him when he was sixteen, but his brother doesn’t listen. Instead, he starts to drink more and more, and he visits less and less. He even stops going to Tsukishima’s matches. _

_ Something inTsukishima dies then, and he begins to wonder if he’s destined for the same path. _

** _“Why do you fight, Tsuki?”_ **

There is a shift on the canvas and when the bell rings for the fourth round to begin, Tsukishima dances. He stays on the defensive, but he takes the lead. He and Miya trade punches, Miya getting in as many as Tsukishima, but like a cobra caught in the song of the musician, Tsukishima guides Miya where he wants him.

Miya is more serious now, the causal confidence he had at the beginning of the match taken over by serious determination. Whatever Tsukishima has planned, he isn’t going to go down easy. Tsukishima prefers it this way. And Miya sees this, Tsukishima isn’t hiding his intention, he leads Miya and the other fighter can’t help but follow, and it makes him sloppy with frustration.

Eventually Tsukishima sees his opportunity, and when Miya throws a straight punch at him, dropping his left arm, Tsukishima rolls into it, blocking with his right and uppercutting Miya in the solar plexus with his left. Stunned, Miya freezes and Tsukishima hooks him with a right, then jabs with his left, Miya’s face snapping to the sides with the force. He counters weakly, trying to come back with a hook to Tsukishima’s ribs, but it’s blocked and Tsukishima comes up the middle with an uppercut to Miya’s chin.

Miya staggers back, shaking his head, and falls to his knees. The auditorium goes so quiet you can hear crickets. The referee sends Tsukishima to the opposite corner and starts his count. Miya tries to rise and falls back to the canvas, this time with his forehead to the floor as he attempts to clear his head and regain his equilibrium. But the count ends and the bell rings. Miya never gets back up.

There is a pregnant pause between the bell and the crowd and they explode, the sound of cheering shaking the walls. Tsukishima is stunned, frozen and staring at Miya’s prostrate form, still trying to wrap his head around the fact he…

He won.

Then he’s being jostled, Ukai and Takeda having shoved past the ropes to hug and shake and congratulate him. Tsukishima turns to the crowd, watching fans jump and scream for him. Because of him.

His gaze lands on his friends, and their going bat shit right now; Hinata’s leaping in the air like an overexcited grasshopper, and Bokuto and Kuroo are screaming themselves hoarse. But it’s Kageyama that Tsukishima can’t stop looking at. He’s just standing there amidst the chaos with his arms crossed and this smug look of approval on his face, like he knew all along Tsukishima could do this.

For once, Tsukishima doesn’t think about it. He just smirks back.

**&&&**

The bar isn’t particularly packed, but there’s a good number of people there. Almost all of them are boxers and, as Kageyama has learned recently, MMA fighters. Friends and family of both groups also mix among the crowd. Hinata drags Kageyama there after the fight and Kageyama can’t be bothered to argue, not with how elated he is because of Tsukishima’s win. He wants to celebrate too, and perhaps congratulate the blonde fighter in person.

Kageyama sits at a table, keeping to himself and watching the door. Miya, oddly, is there with a group that includes his twin brother, an onigiri stall owner, who, in Hinata’s and Bokuto’s opinions, sells the best onigiri in the prefecture.

Kageyama isn’t drinking, though the bar would certainly serve him, despite being more than nine months away from his twentieth birthday. It’s fine though, crowds always make him nervous and he doesn’t plan to stay very long.

He just wants to see Tsukishima. One last time.

Hinata told him he is being dramatic, Kageyama prefers practical. It’s not like he doesn’t want to see the snarky, blonde fighter any more, it’s just more a matter of preserving his heart, as sappy as it sounds. Kageyama _ likes _ Tsukishima, and on some level Kageyama thinks Tsuki likes him too, but it seems that there are just too many obstacles in their way or they would be together by now. 

And in the end, Kageyama doesn’t know how to chase what he wants. Confidence on the court is one thing, people are a whole different issue that Kageyama doesn’t know how to navigate. He has a hard enough time making friends, let alone confessing his feelings for someone he’s sure is out of his league in the first place.

The bar erupts in a commotion of cheers and clapping, yanking Kageyama from his thoughts. He looks around for the source, finding the tall blonde fighter has finally arrived. Kageyama smiles to himself, watching as various people shove their way to Tsukishima to clap him on the back and congratulate him. He’s obviously pleased, by the small grin on his face, though he can also tell Tsukishima will never be entirely comfortable being the center of attention in this way.

Kageyama can relate.

Suddenly silence engulfs the bar. Kageyama watches, tense, as the crowd of people part like the Red Sea to let Miya make his way to Tsukishima. Miya stops a few feet from the other blonde, both men leveling each other with cool gazes. Miya is the first to break the silence.

“Ya hit like a bitch.”

The air in the bar get a little heavier, some people shifting as if preparing for a fight. Tsukishima just stares down at Miya, his face a mask of impassivity as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Yet you fall to your knees like one,” Tsukishima replies.

Kageyama’s heart is in his throat, the atmosphere so thick with tension, you can taste it. 

Except, every trace of it evaporates in a second when Miya’s face cracks and he starts cackling, and everyone takes a relieved breath.

“You’re a shit, Tsukishima, but honestly, it took ya long enough. Figured I’d be kicking your ass ‘til the end of time if you couldn’t pull yer head outta it.”

Tsukishima snorts, a blush tinting his cheeks, and rubs at the back of his head. 

“C’mon, man, lemme buy you a beer.” Both men turn to the bar and the party resumes.

Kageyama jerks forward a second later as Hinata slams into him.

“What the hell, idiot!” He snaps, turning in his seat to glare at the fool.

“Sorry, tripped,” Hinata replies as he settles into the chair next to him. “That was crazy, right? Thought there was gonna be an unofficial rematch.”

Kageyama grunts, not bothering to agree since pretty much everyone thought the same.

“Should have known better, Tsuki and Miya had been on good terms a long time ago.”

“Friends?” Kageyama asks, not sure he totally believed that.

Hinata shrugs, “More like frenemies? Maybe? They definitely liked to antagonize each other.”

That, Kegayama can see happening, even now from his seat watching the two men at the bar. He can see the smug looks and caustic banter passing between them, though without the tension.

“So, you still gonna go through with it?”

Kageyama glances to the side, then down at his lap and shrugs. “Yeah.”

Hinata snorts and shakes his head. “I still think you’re being dumb.”

Kageyam’s head snaps up and he glares at the short man beside him. “You’re the dumb one! What would you know about it?”

Hinata only looks at him before saying, “I’m gonna miss your stupid face at the gym.”

Kageyama is a little dumbstruck. “Wha-? It not like we can’t...hang out.” The last part comes out a bit uncertain and he cringes, then adds, “If you, you know, want to.”

Hinata giggles and throws himself at Kageyama, wrapping short arms around his neck. “Of course, baka! You still have to beat me in Mario Kart!”

“Tch,” Kageyama says with a roll of his eyes, shoving at Hinata’s face. “Get off, moron.” He complains, but he’s still smiling.

Hinata gets caught up in another conversation after that, leaving Kageyama to his thoughts. They aren’t unpleasant so much as bittersweet. Like he’s missing something he’s never even had, and he guesses it makes sense.

A little time later and Tsukishima is alone at the bar and Kageyama snatches the opportunity for some alone time with the blonde. He grabs his jacket and quickly makes his way to the bar, glancing back to his seat and seeing Hinata shake his head in exasperation. Kageyama grimaces, but doesn’t change course.

“Hey,” he says, coming up next to Tsukishima. He feels so awkward, exposed, and Kageyama finds it hard to look up at him.

“Hey yourself.” Tsukishima’s voice is softer than he expected, not quiet, more...tender and it makes Kageyama’s chest tighten. He looks up beneath his lashes and Tsukishima is staring back at him, a small, warm smile on his face. He’s obviously in a good mood from his win and it makes Tsukishima more unguarded, and Kageyama has second thoughts. 

But no, none of this is for him, that look would disappear soon enough and Kageyama would be left pining after something he can’t have. And he can’t take anymore of that.

“Just wanna say congratulations,” he says.

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything at first, taking a sip of whatever is in his glass. He faces forward, staring into the mirror over the bar instead of Kageyama, and it hurts. Kageyama just wants him to look at him. Always look at him.

Right before the fight, as Tsukishima made his way to the ring, they locked gazes, something flashing in the blonde’s eyes that made Kageyama shudder. It was like a low fire, something that hadn’t been there before any fight Kageyama had seen him in. Then when it started, Kageyama was one of hundreds who got to watch that fire stoke until it roared, blazing high and hot. After the fight, when Tsukishima was being tugged around the ring in ecstatic glory, they locked eyes again, the fire still raging in Tsukishima’s eyes, and Kageyama wanted to _ burn _.

He would give anything to see that look on Tsukishima’s face again, to have it directed at him and him alone.

“Congratulate yourself, it was you’re rousing speech that did it.”

Kageyama snapped his head up, eyes wide. “What? What does _ that _ mean?!”

Tsukishima turned bodily toward him, curling an arm over the bar and leaning on it. “Exactly what it means, King. Your motivational speech where you called me a ‘scared little bitch’.”

Kageyama feels his face explode with heat. He hadn’t meant that. Well, not entirely. He’d only meant that Tsukishima gets caught up in his insecurities and runs away instead of mastering them. Granted, Kageyama has never been one to wax poetic like he’s heard Takeda do for other fighters, but his intention was the same. Even if it’s executed poorly.

He rubs the back of his neck. “M’sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

Tsukishima snorts, “Don’t be. I said it helped.”

Kageyama is still blushing, but he nods. His embarrassment, however, is giving way to pride knowing that he was, in fact, useful.

“Don’t let it go to your heard. You’re still a shit,” Tsukishima bites and Kageyama glares at him, though it softens seeing the grin trying to sneak it’s way onto Tsukishima’s face.

It’s a small, slight grin that makes its way onto Kageyama’s face, diluted by the want cascading through his body, his desire to sink into Tsukishima and hold him tight, and the reality that it’s not going to happen.

“Something wrong, King?”

Kageyama mentally shakes himself of his depressing thoughts. “Hn, I’m heading out. Just wanted to stop by and say congrats and I knew you could do it.”

Tsukishima is looking at Kageyama like he can’t quite figure him out.

“You don’t have to leave, you know. There’s plenty of party left over,” Tsukishima replies, his expression unreadable.

Kageyama shrugs and looks around, “I-“

He doesn’t get to finish because Bokuto pops up beside Tsukishima, wrapping his beefy arm around his shoulder, and yelling excitedly.

“Tsukishima, my prodigy, my son! I’m so proud!”

Kageyama snorts and rolls his eyes, used to Bokuto’s exuberant nature by now. He can’t believe he ever thought this guy was scary. Not that he’s not capable of being so, but only when fighting. The rest of the time he’s like a giant Labrador.

“I should go,” Kageyama mumbles. Akaashi is trying to pull his boyfriend off Tsukishima, chastising him for not _ reading the room _, whatever that means, and Kageyama can see Tsukishima’s attention torn between him and being polite to Bokuto.

Kageyama turns away, preparing to leave, the finality of this whole adventure sinking in like a knife. His heart hurts. God he’d given anything to just kiss Tsukishima even once, just to know what it’s like. To at least satisfy a small part of his desire before never seeing the blonde again.

“Kageyama, wait!”

Kageyama pauses, a few feet away from Tsukishima. Akaashi is quietly lecturing Bokuto next to him.

“I’ll see you around, Tsukishima-san.” Kageyama smiles at him and he knows it’s a pathetic one, he’s never been good at masking his feelings. Then he leaves the bar.

**** **   
**

**&&&**

Tsukishima finishes another whisky in record time. The party is merrily continuing behind him and he couldn’t care less. Things were going so well, life was fucking peachy, then his mood plummeted with the departure of blue eyes.

What fuck had that been about?

He noticed Kageyama when he arrived, of course he did, automatically seeking him out. He was half the reason Tsukishima even decided to make an appearance. He would have preferred to go home, sink into an ice bath, and drink beer. He was tired. He was sore.

But he wanted to see Kageyama. He wanted to—and this is not an easy thing to admit—thank him. Then he wanted to drag him back to his apartment and wreck him. He was finally tired of all the avoidance, the dancing around. All the reservations he held onto for so long, no longer important, and perhaps it was just the endorphins from winning, but Tsukishima was ready to throw caution to the wind. 

He wanted Kageyama, and not just for the night. He planned to date him, he wasn’t just some playboy, but he wanted his way with him first.

And then Kageyama approached him and he found he had to work up just a little more courage. Not because of insecurities, but because he knows he’s been a dick and doesn’t deserve Kageyama’s affections. All of his plans kind of went out the window as he worked out a way to approach the topic of a possible _ them _.

But something wasn’t right. Kageyama seemed genuinely happy to see him, but he was reserved, distant. Sad. And when he said he was leaving, something inside Tsukishima felt that Kageyama wasn’t just saying goodbye for tonight.

And Tsukishima could have strangled Bokuto, the big, goofy cockblock! Tsukishima wanted to salvage the situation, convince Kageyama to stay, but he knew better than to completely ignore his mentor and he didn’t want to put Akaashi in the position of having to deal with a pouty Bokuto. 

But then Kageyama was gone, just like that, and Tsukishima finds himself alone at the bar, wondering how the _ hell _ his fucking life got so damn complicated. Over a boy, no less.

“I’m going to kick your ass.”

Tsukishima rolls his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer. Kuroo stands beside him, leaning in his elbows on the bartop. 

“Excuse me, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo turns to look at him. Tsukishima is king acquainted with Kuroo’s brand of teasing and lecturing. He’s one of Tsukishima's closest friends and his mentor alongside Bokuto. That’s why Tsukishima knows right now that Kuroo isn’t joking around and he’s suddenly very nervous, wondering what he did to piss him off.

“I said I’m going to kick. Your. Ass. I’m literally going to drag your skinny ass into the alley behind this bar and see how well you hold up against me.”

Tsukishima knows he wouldn’t. Not against Kuroo. He’s probably top five in his circuit, and not someone you want to mess with on a normal day. And though it doesn’t happen often, Tsukishima has personally seen the damage Kuroo can do when pissed. 

“Have I done something-“

“Go after him, dumbass!”

Tsukishima jumps, leaning back surprised and a little scared. “What?”

“Look, Tsuki, you are a smart guy, one of the smartest really.”

“Thanks…?”

“But you’re also clueless, and this is an intervention.”

“Um…”

“We are all tired of watching the back and forth between you and Kageyama. You both _ obviously _ have a thing for each other, yet you _ both _ continue to ignore it for some ungodly reason, and it’s driving the rest of us insane. Go. Get. Him. Or I’ll have to kill you.”

Tsukishima looks around the bar, his jaw slack in shock. A few people, mostly those who frequent his gym and have first hand experience with this specific situation, are staring at him and Kuroo. The shrimp and Tanaka seem to be struggling to withhold their amusement, and Suga watches him with smug satisfaction.

Tsukishima looks back at Kuroo and he’s holding about a slip of paper, and with slow, deliberate movements, Tsukishima takes it from him, unfolding it. Scrawled across it in a flowing writing that is definitely not Kuroo’s is an address.

“Please, for the love of the boxing gods and my own personal satisfaction, go fuck your man.”

Tsukishima stares at the paper, then looks at Kuroo, mouth hanging open. Tsukishima looks back around the bar finding Oikawa grinning at him and giving him a thumbs up sign. Tsukishima’s entire six foot three inch frame catches on fire. He’s no stranger to embarrassment, no one escapes those kinds of experiences, but this is on a whole new level. 

Tsukishima snaps his mouth closed. “Your interventions could use a little work, Kuroo-san,” he pouts.

“They work well enough. Now are you going or do I have to make good on my threat? Because I will. I will kill you dead, Tsuki. I will beat you to a bloody pulp, hurt you, make you cry-“

“I get it, for crying out loud. I’m going, you psycho.” 

Tsukishima grabs his coat, shoving the slip of paper in the pocket because he’s already memorized the address. 

As he gets to the door, his hand alighting on the knob, Kuroo yells at him, “Go get him, Tiger!”

The whole bar seems to erupt in cheering and clapping, and Tsukishima hangs his head in sadness as he exits. He’s a little sad that he will now have to change gyms, because he will never return to Karasuno. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos much appreciated. I love hearing from you all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut.
> 
> That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's done. I tried really hard to give you all satisfaction, so hopefully this chapter delivers. Thank you all for hanging in there and not abandoning me though I'm a poor updater. I have loved and appreciated all of your wonderful comments and recognition. I could not be happier. 
> 
> Thank you again to stacysmash for beta-ing this fic. If you like rare pairs or KuroDai, you should check her out. She's got some really great stuff to read (My personal favorite are her TsukiHina and the OiKuroDai Catboy AU). 
> 
> Love you all and stay safe.
> 
> Oh! I guess I should probably mention that not using a condom is stupid. Please don't follow the bad decision making of the characters, I just really like creampies. Also, the extra spaces throughout this chapter indicate POV switches. I really wanted you all to have the pleasure of being in both their heads for this. Hopefully it's not too confusing.
> 
> Kisses!

Kageyama curls up in the corner of the couch in the living room, staring blankly at the television. Tonight, all his roommates are out, and Kageyama is thankful, unsure if he can deal—_ knowing he can’t deal— _with people at this time.

He’s happy to say he hasn’t cried, yet, but he does feel a bit...hollow, like how it feels after losing a game. He wants to feel good about putting an end to things between himself and Tsukishima, but all he feels is this sense of..._ loss _. And it’s stupid? Right? To feel like he lost something he never even had? What right does he have to feel this way? It’s pathetic. Oddly enough he imagines he hears that comment in Tsukishima’s voice.

A knock at the door draws him from his thoughts and he twists around to look at the door. The knock comes again; three rapid knuckles to the steel, and Kageyama can’t think, for the life of him, who would wanna drop by for a visit. It’s not super late, but it’s late enough to be considered rude to drop by unannounced. Whoever it is knocks again and Kageyama gets to his feet, irritability rising. He does not want to deal with anyone right now, and if this turns out to be someone selling something he’s gonna go ballistic.

He gets to the door and gabs the knob, turning and pulling it open.

Tsukishima stood outside the door, where he had thought hard about what it was he was about to do. Like, he really put effort into considering his actions, making sure that he wasn’t here to just use this kid willy nilly. Kageyama deserves more than that. So it took a fair amount of bravery for Tsukishima to knock on the door. As much as he was counting on Kageyama’s happiness at seeing him, there was the lingering fear that he had misread the entire situation and he was about to make a fool of himself.

Now he stares at Kageyama standing just inside his door and every thought Tsukishima has in his head withers to dust. Kageyama is dressed down in a too large t-shirt, basketball shorts, and socks. Tsukishima imagines looking at him is akin to what dying of thirst and finding water feels like.

Dramatic? Maybe, but relevant all the same.

Kageyama eyes are wide, the blue of his irises incandescent. There is a slight flush to his cheeks and Tsukishima wants to kiss it away.

“Tsukishima?!” Kageyama says, like he can’t believe he’s really here, and Tsukishima can’t say anything, his tongue tied up in his mouth, twisted and knotted and blocking any coherent speech that might make its way past.

After a minute of useless staring, Kageyama is the one to ask the question of the day.

“Why are you here?”

Fuck! That did not come out right! He’s just so completely rocked that Tsukishima of all people is standing outside his door. His question, sincere as it was, came out a little gruffer than he intended. 

But Tsukishima is here. _ Tsukishima _ is _ here _! And Kageyama has never felt more panicked than he does in this moment.

It occurs to him that he’s wearing his night clothes, his grandfather’s old t-shirt with the fading logo of his favorite team on it, the neck stretched out and the material super thin. There’s also old gym shorts, and...and socks. He looks ridiculous, and he’d be more embarrassed if he wasn’t still stuck on the fact _ Tsukishima _ is standing on his threshold.

Maybe something happened? Maybe Oikawa…? And they couldn’t reach him? Maybe?

But no, if it was serious in that regard, Kageyama is at least somewhat sure he would be the last to know and Tsukishima would have said something by this point. Right?

Tsukishima gazes back at him, eyes wide and bright, even though his face is impassive. And what a beautiful face. God he’s so fucking _ gorgeous _, Kageyama can barely breathe.

But, he gathers himself enough to step aside, holding the door open. “Come in,” he offers the blonde, sure that it must be some emergency if Tsukishima _ showed up at his home. _

Tsukishima walks in, gingerly stepping past Kageyama, careful not to brush him. Kageyama closes the door and walks past Tsukishima, stepping out of the genkan and turning around to face his crush.

Okay, maybe Tsukishima didn’t think this far ahead. Well, he did. He had a whole twenty minutes on the train to figure out what to say, but none of it seems to matter. He’s in full on panic mode wondering what he was thinking. He wasn’t, that’s the problem. At least his brain isn’t thinking. In fact, he’s sure his heart and his dick are leading him by the collar at this point.

Which brings him back to his current situation. He’s here, in Kageyama’s home, and he can’t, for the life of him, figure out how to adequately express the things happening in his head without feeling exposed or sounding like a jerk.

He stares at Kageyama who stands a few inches taller than him by way of the entrance step, but he’s got his arms crossed defensively and he will barely look at Tsukishima. When he does, the surprise in Kageyama’s eyes is eclipsed by high walls built to protect, and Tsukishima is momentarily transported back to the bar when Kageyama had the same guarded look before he walked away.

“You left,” Tsukishima states, both surprised at his own lack of control and his need to know why. “You said goodbye and I don’t think you meant just for tonight.”

Kageyama feels like a sponge squeezed too tightly. Of course he didn’t just mean tonight and he had hoped Tsukishima wouldn’t have picked up on his intention so quickly. He should have known better, Tsukishima is as smart as they come, it’s one of the things Kageyama admires about him.

But now he’s in full panic mode. He doesn’t want to explain why he left. That would mean confessing, and while he’s sure Tsukishima has at least guessed his interests, Kageyama hasn’t ever admitted it out loud and that scares the shit out of him. Because while Tsukishima might have an interest himself, Kageyama doubts they’re on the same wavelength regarding feelings.

But Tuskishima is looking at Kageyama as if he actually expects an answer, and Kageyama flounders to reply with _ something _.

“I-I don’t...belong.” It’s the first thing Kageyama thinks of, it feels safe, but it still hurts to say out loud. He can feel heat building behind his eyes, his vision getting a little blurry. He stares at the floor, willing himself to calm down. When he feels like he won’t collapse in tears, he looks at Tsukishima.

His gold eyes are boring into him, and he’s so _ so _beautiful.

“Why are you here, Tsukishima-san?”

_ Please don’t leave... _

_ God I want him… _

Did Tsukishima truly believe he stood a chance against this kid? He’s seen him cry one other time, and despite what he tried telling himself, it hurt to watch almost as much as getting punched in the face by Miya. This time is no better. No, it’s _ worse _, because Tsukishima can’t even begin to lie to himself, and the tears in Kageyama’s eyes are like a jab to his gut, punching out all the air in his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

He doesn’t want to be the cause of his pain.

Tsukishima wants to make him smile.

Wants to piss him off for fun.

Wants to hold him in his arms.

“You belong with me,” Tsukishima answers, his voice strained.

_ God I want him… _

There is a glorious second of tension so thick between them. They stare into the others’ eyes, sapphire blue meeting honey gold, and all want and affection and fear and elation are bare for both to see, and Kageyama drops his arms and Tsukishima takes a step…

He crashes into Kageyama hard enough to knock a breathless noise from him, his glasses getting smushed uncomfortably into both their faces. He doesn’t seem to care though as Tsukishima locks their lips together, not a single bit of patience left in his body. Kageyama opens his mouth, gasping, and Tsukishima dives inside, sweeping his tongue over every inch of Kageyama’s mouth he can reach determined to memorize it in case it doesn’t happen again. It’s messy, at first, Kageyama’s inexperience apparent, but he still has the wherewithal to learn, and he learns fast, wrapping his arms around Tsukishima’s neck and pulling himself closer with a moan. Tsukishima goes insta hard in point six seconds flat.

Tsukishima growls, literally growls, like some wild animal, and it makes Kageyama’s heart race like he’s been running all day. He manages to pull back enough to take a breath and look at Tsukishima, and the look on his face makes Kageyama shudder and his knees nearly buckle. Tsukishima looks like the wild animal he sounds like. His hair is slightly disheveled and his lips are wet and swollen, even his cheeks are dusted crimson with the heat of desire. But it’s his eyes that make Kageyama’s hips twitch, his own cock straining now against his shorts, and throbbing with need. Tsukishima’s sharp, gold eyes are black with lust and half lidded, and the look he levels at Kageyama makes all of his insides light up like a bonfire. Kageyama is searing from the inside out, the flames of arousal burning hot and high, the look in Tsukishima’s eyes keeps stoking the flame, and Kageyama feels it will consume him whole. He _ wants _ to be consumed, burned until there's nothing left but Tsukishima.

Tsukishima slowly starts pressing him backward, making Kageyama take halting steps until he’s being pressed into the wall. He leans in, planting his open lips against the bare skin of Kageyama’s neck, his warm, wet tongue tasting him like he’s a delicacy. Kageyama whines, gripping at Tsukishima’s shoulders and rocking his hips forward unintentionally. He can’t help it, he’s so hard and aching and he wants to feel Tsukishima against him. 

Tsukishima trails his lips up to Kageyama’s ear. “I want you,” he whispers against the shell, then nibbling at Kageyama’s earlobe. His voice is full of the heated desire that’s mirrored in the hardness he presses back against Kageyama. He nearly sobs in reply, knowing Tsukishima is hard and wanting because of him.

“Yes! Fuck! Yes!”

Tsukishima continues to leave kisses all along Kageyama’s neck to his exposed collar bones, leaning down a bit to reach. While he’s there, Kageyama feels a large hand travel down his thigh and circle around to the back of his knee. Tsukishima rises and with it Kageyama’s leg, and the feral smirk on his face makes Kageyama moan. Tsukishima comes back in for another filthy kiss, his hand traveling up the underside of Kageyama’s thigh and inside the leg of his shorts and pulling him close as he rocks his hips, rubbing himself against Kageyama’s hardness. Tsukishima’s other hand finds its way beneath the hem of Kageyama’s shirt, the heat of his fingertips tickling their way up to his torso. Tsukishima wraps his palm around Kageyama’s more narrow chest, using the pad of his thumb to tease at a hardening nipple.

Kageyama holds tightly to Tsukishima, rutting against him and uncaring about the noise he makes. He’s spilling precum into his underwear, the sticky material rubbing against the head of his cock with each roll of their hips. Kageyama feels like he’ll explode if he doesn’t cum soon.

Tsukishima thinks he’s in heaven. He’s died at some point and this is his reward for having to deal with Kuroo and Bokuto.

Kageyama is so _ responsive _, every little action causing some reaction of magnificent proportion, whether it’s Kageyama’s body or his amazing voice. Don’t get Tsukishima started on his voice. He takes pride in making his lovers sing, but this is beyond anything he’s ever heard, from the high pitched breathless whines to the deep rumbling moans, every note is more captivating than any music he listens to, and he thinks he’ll do almost anything to record those seductive chords. To have them for himself to listen to whenever he wants. Tsukishima is determined to get more sounds from Kageyama, to make him scream and cry until he’s hoarse.

Kageyama’s skilled fingers thread themselves through Tsukishima’s hair, his blunt nails scratching at his scalp and they tangle the strands between his digits, pulling. _ Hard _ . Tsukishima can tell he didn’t mean to, but that makes it feel so much better, and Tsukishima groans into Kageyama’s mouth, his cock jumping and spilling precum into his pants. Tsukishima is going to _ wreck _him, make Kageyama cum so hard that every time he sees his own dick after, it will be Tsukishima he thinks of.

Tsukishima yanks him off the wall, and Kageyama yelps, but has no time to comment or complain before he’s on his back on the floor. Tsukishima hovers over him, stripping off his glasses and setting them aside, and Kageyama stares back up, flushed with his mouth open in confused surprise. Tsukishima thinks it’s a good look on him, thinks Kageyama would look even better with his cock thrusting into those open lips, but that’s not what he wants today. Instead he grins down at Kageyama and winks, which causes the younger man to flush even darker, and Kageyama closes his mouth with a huff. Tsukishima leans down and kisses him, softly this time, before lifting himself back onto his knees. He’s glad Kageyama is so pliant, this would be difficult if he fought Tsukishima the whole way, and as much fun as that would be, Tsukishima has plans.

“Let’s turn you over,” Tsukishima says, and again not giving Kageyama time to react, he grips his hips and flips the poor kid into his stomach. Tsukishima grins even wider when Kageyama moans, his hips tilting into the floor, most likely seeking friction against his swollen cock.

He leans forward onto one hand, allowing the other to travel up Kageyama’s back and under his shirt. The skin is so smooth and he can feel the flex of strong muscle beneath his palm. He hums with appreciation, leaning further down to purr into Kageyama’s ear.

“You haven’t any idea of the things I want to do to you.”

Kageyama moans and arches into his touch. Tsukishima presses into him with a groan. “Do you feel that? You did that. You make me this hard and I can’t wait to get you on my cock.”

Kageyama whines, his hips rolling forward, slowly humping against the floor and Tsukishima thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He palms one cheek, squeezing the hard flesh, loving the fact that Kageyama is not soft. “I want to make you beg and cum so hard you cry.”

“_ Yeeess _…” Kageyama croons, rolling his hips back up against Tsukishima and making him hiss, then down again against the floor.

Tsukishima bites at his own lips, struggling to reign in his patience. He wants fuck Kageyama into the floor _ now _, but he also wants this to last. He wants to enjoy this for as long as possible, and he wants to make Kageyama’s first time memorable. If only so he keeps returning to Tsukishima to take care of him, as selfish as that is.

He scoots back a little, using both hands to push Kageyama’s shirt up his back so the whole of it is bared for him. He begins trailing wet kisses along his shoulder blades, one to the other, and back the center, kissing down each knob of Kageyama’s spine while dragging his hands down his sides. Kageyama moans the whole time, arching his back and trying to get as close to Tsukishima’s lips as he can. Tsukishima grins against his warm skin, breathing in the sharp scent of soap combined with Kageyama’s own earthy, natural scent. He gets to the waistband of Kageyama’s shorts, kissing along the edge before tucking his fingers beneath it and pulling down, exposing inch after inch of flawless, pink skin. His small but plump cheeks squeeze and bounce ever so slightly as they pop out of the shorts, and Tsukishima pulls them down as far as they can go before they’re impeded by his position. Tsukishima palms both cheeks, spreading them, Kageyama’s cute, pink hole twitching in anticipation. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he sighs, rubbing at Kageyama’s hole with his thumb. Then Tsukishima leans down, nipping at each cheek and chuckling when Kageyama yelps and glares back at him. Tsukishima holds his gaze unblinking, as he dips down and runs his tongue from Kageyama’s asshole to his tailbone.

Holy motherfucking shit, is this even _ real _?! Kageyama’s mouth drops open and he moans so loud he embarrasses himself. He has discovered in the last five minutes that being manhandled is a kink he never knew he had. Now Tsukishima has his tongue shoved up his ass and Kageyama thinks he may die. It feels so good. 

Precum pools onto the floor beneath him, his entire groin getting soaked as it smears against his heated skin from rutting his hips against the floor. He grinds back, shoving hard against Tsukishima’s face, trying to get his tongue deeper, his nails digging into the linoleum.

It’s so..._ dirty _ . So _ filthy _, and it’s the sexiest thing Kageyama has ever experienced.

Tsukishima grips his hips, shoving his face between his cheeks, the sounds coming from him are wet and sloppy, and Tsukishima moans as he eats Kageyama out like a dog lapping at water. Tsukishima pulls his face from Kageyama’s ass long enough to spit in his hole, then he dives back in, but this time, Kageyama feels a hot hand wrap itself around his neglected cock, gathering the precum before stroking. Kageyama howls and thrusts into Tsukishima’s strong grip, chasing his impending orgasm, but what hurls him over the edge is the fingertip that slips inside him beside Tsukishima’s tongue. The orgasm springs on Kageyama unannounced, and his body seizes, toes curling painfully as he cums so hard his stomach cramps. He gasps out Tsukishima’s name, or some semblance of it, as he’s stroked and licked through the remnants of his climax. And when done his body simply collapses, uncaring of the mess he’s laying in.

Tsukishima sits on his heels, staring at the shine of spit between Kageyama’s thighs. His hand is shoved down his own pants and he strokes himself with a light grip. Kageyama cumming has been the highlight of his week. His fucking year. That was the sexiest thing in Tsukishima’s existence and he’s feeling insane with the desire to plunge his aching cock deep into Kageyama’s soft hole.

Tsukishima moves out of the way, pulling Kageyama’s shorts and underwear off as he goes, and the kid looks back at him with lazy, confused eyes. He looks completely fucked out. 

Tsukishima smirks at him, “Oh, did you think I was done, King?”

The flush that darkened Kageyama’s skin before comes back with a vengeance, and his eyes follow suit, his pupils widening once again until they’re blown black with hunger. Kageyama carefully rolls over, leaning back into his elbows, hsi shirt still rucked up beneath his arms,the skin of his hips and lower stomach slick with cum, and Tsukishima licks his lips.

“I told you, I’m not finished until you’re begging for my cock,” he says, trailing his eyes slowly up Kageyama’s body to meet his gaze. Kageyama bites at his bottom lip and sits up further, ripping off his shirt and flinging it against the wall and leaving him in just a pair of socks. Tsukishima reaches out with a grin and brings Kageyama into his lap and they share kisses for a while in the post-sex haze.

When Kageyama’s cock starts to twitch and fill, Tsukishima asks between kisses, “Where’s your lube?”

“Bedroom.”

He smiles against Kageyama’s lips and presses his hands against him, wordlessly asking him to rise. Kageyama does so silently, his eyes never leaving Tsukishima who has to swallow hard against the urge to suck Kageyama into his mouth when his half hard cock hangs in front of his face. He has a desperate need, then, to lap at the skin and clean him off, but he’s only going to get dirtier, so maybe later.

Tsukishima rises, still looking down, and reaches out his fingers to brush at the tip. “Such a pretty cock,” he says. And it is, not as long as Tsukishima’s own, but thicker. Tsukishima imagines he’ll have to try it out someday soon.

Kageyama snorts and shoves at his shoulder. “Move, dumbass,” he says though his voice is gravel like and he tries to clear it. Tsukishima smirks and steps aside, gesturing for Kageyama to lead the way. He does, walking past Tsukishima who doesn’t let him get far ahead before he’s wrapping himself around the shorter man, running his hands all over every inch of skin he can reach, mapping out the muscles of Kageyama’s stomach and chest, and trailing his hands through the drying mess on his belly. He sucks marks onto Kageyama’s neck to join the others blooming there from earlier, and scrapes his teeth against the skin. He pulls back at Kageyama’s hips so he can grind his covered cock into his ass, and it makes it difficult to move around, but Kageyama doesn’t seem to care. He giggles at first then groans, leaning back into Tsukishima as he also tries to guide them through the apartment.

Kageyama’s heart is racing, beating so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t vibrated right through his chest. Tsukishima declares he wasn’t finished yet, and Kageyama knows he still needs to cum, but the way it was said made Kageyama think he was in for more than just one orgasm. He honestly didn’t think he had it in him, his first orgasm was so powerful he still feels a little stupid. It seems as if he doesn’t know his body quite as well as he thought because Tsukishima’s words sent a soft wave of want right down his spine and he found himself in the man’s lap, being kissed until his cock decided to join them.

Kageyama is ready. He’s ready to have this man inside him, fucking every thought from his skull. And once they step past the threshold into Kageyama’s bedroom, he’s shoving Tsukishima back against the closed door and kissing him like it’s the first time all over again. He slips his hands beneath Tsukishima’s shirt, tracing the taut muscles of his back. He pushes it up, whining when it bunches beneath Tsukishima’s arms and moves no further. Tsukishima laughs quietly, assisting Kageyama by yanking off the offending thing and dropping it at their feet while Kageyama spreads his hands against Tsukishima’s back and presses him close so their chest to chest.

Kageyama refuses to waste this opportunity, he’s wanted this for so long and he wants to revel in the fact it’s _ actually _happening as long as Tsukishima will allow.

But he wants more, of course he does, and now that they’re here, Kageyama can’t let him go without telling him how he feels, even if it means Tsukishima stops this.

“I really like you, Tsukishima-san,” he says into their kiss, his heart thundering hard behind his ribs, anticipating the answer. Tsukishima’s hands are wrapped around him, one pressed between his shoulder blades, the other spread across one ass cheek and pulling him close enough to grind on.Tsukishima laughs into the kiss, pulling back to look Kageyama in the eye. With the hand that was on his back, he brushes aside some stray, sweaty hair.

“Call me Kei, Tobio.” Tsukishima’s cheeks are a deep red, and Kageyama expects it’s from more than arousal, and his expression is somewhat shy, like Kageyama would reject him.

“Kei…” Kageyama says, tasting the sound of it on his tongue. It tastes good and will taste so much sweeter when it’s being pulled out of him through Tsukishima’s talented cock.

“Tobio…”

Kageyama whines, the sound of his name on that sharp tongue makes him shake. Tsukishima flips them, pressing Kageyama into the wall now and resuming their make out. But they’re both eager, and soon Kageyama flips them again walking backward without much thought to where they're going. The back of his thighs hit the edge of his desk, and no one really thinks too much, Tsukishima just lifts Kageyama onto it, papers and books getting knocked off onto the floor. Kageyama wraps his legs around Tsukishima’s waist and his arms around his neck, using Tsukishima as leverage to grind desperately into him, the open zipper of Tsukishima’s jeans rubbing harshly against his bare cock.

Tsukishima snorts, moving down to suck a mark under his jaw. “Your desperation is hot,” he says, breath hot against Kageyama’s neck and he slips a hand between them to lightly stroke Kageyama’s straining length. “But it would be sad if I never get the chance to sit on this.”

Kageyama moans loudly, dragging Tsukishima up by the hair to smash their lips together, teeth clacking. As much as being fucked by Tsukishima really gets him hot, the idea he would let Kageyama fuck him just _ does _ things to him.

“Kei…” Kageyama almost sobs, “Please!”

Tsukishima let’s him go briefly, Kageyama whines and tries to put Tsukishima’s hand back around his aching cock. Tsukishima laughs, telling him to wait a second, then he’s shoving down his jeans and boxers. He presses himself closer with a tilt of his hips, then wraps his hand around them _ both _, jerking them off fast and rough.

“Fuck!” Tsukishima swears, leaning back to watch Kageyama’s face contort with pleasure.

And Kageyama doesn’t disappoint, tilting his head back to moan as he scratches red marks down Tsukishima’s bare back.

“Want inside you!” Tsukishima hisses, the sting in his back mixing with the heat of arousal thrumming through him as he continues to jack them off. “Wanna fill you up so good.”

“Please!”

He begs so pretty, that deep voice pitched upward an octave or two and saturated with need. Tsukishima groans, kissing Kageyama like he’ll die without his tongue in his mouth, and he has completely run out of patience, he needs to be inside this boy yesterday.

Tsukishima shoves his hands beneath Kageyama’s ass, his fingers slipping between his sticky cheeks and his cock throbs, leaking precum. He lifts Kageyama, his desperation to sink into the younger man flooding his veins like pure adrenaline, the weight of Kageyama seeming light as a feather. Kageyama tightens his arms around his neck, refusing to separate from Tsukishima’s tongue for even the briefest second, though he gasps, and Tsukishima can hear the appreciation in the soft sound. Kageyama’s muscular legs wrap around his waist, thighs clenching his hips, and heels digging just under Tsukishima’s butt cheeks and Kageyama uses him as leverage to grind himself against his abs. Tsukishima has to focus _ really hard _ not to trip because his knees feel weak, the sensation of Kageyama’s stiff length rubbing against his heated flesh and smearing the copious amounts of precum between them mixed with the way his own leaking member is thrusted up between Kageyama’s ass cheeks makes Tsukishima’s head spin. He moans, stumbling quickly toward the bed.

Tsukishima drops his desperate lover on the mattress and he’s dragged right down after him as Kageyama won’t let go, like a sexy, horny octopus. Tsukishima can’t help the breathless chuckle that falls from him and is caught by Kageyama’s tongue. The other grins into the kiss, but they’re both almost immediately lost in their sexual frenzy once again, Kageyama shoving at Tsukishima’s jeans and underwear with all of his appendages.

“Need these off, now!” Kageyama growls against his lips, and Tsukishima fucking _ whines _. He nods, doing his utmost to rid himself of the offending material without separating them.

It’s Kageyama who detaches them first, and Tsukishima is following his lips like a baby with a bottle. Kageyama maneuvers to look down between them and moans wantonly when his eyes fall on Tsukishima’s naked, twitching cock as it steadily spills precum all over Kageyama’s similarly twitching, leaking member. Tsukishima swells with so much pride at the look in those blown out, lidded eyes, the tongue that darts out to lick swollen lips hungrily, and the worshipful way Kageyama wraps his calloused fingers around his shaft. Kageyama looks Tsukishima in the eye, stroking slowly. His looks fucking _ gone _, sex drunk and debouched.

“I need you,” Kageyama whispers, his voice drenched with want. “I want you inside me, Kei.”

Tsukishima’s head falls to Kageyama’s shoulder so he can bite at the flesh and groan as he ruts into Kageyama’s hand like he’s fucking his ass, and it takes _ monumental effort _ to force himself to stop so he doesn’t cum that second. 

Kageyama will be the goddamned death of him.

“Fuck!” Tsukishima growls. “I’m gonna fuck you up!”

Kageyama is no longer a denizen of Earth, he has ascended into another plane that exists solely for him and Tsukishima. He has lost track of all time, awareness of his physical surroundings, of the fact he is anything more than physical sensations and the aroma of sweat and sex. 

Tsukishima still has yet to fuck him. 

“...ube. Tobio…”

Kageyama blinks and turns his head to look into Tsukishima’s flushed face, his eyes glassy with desire, his damp, sweaty hair falling into his golden eyes. He’d lost his glasses at some point, Kageyama could not tell you when, but the blonde’s face is now completely unencumbered by the thick lenses. He looks so much younger this way, his gaze dazed by arousal and heated as he stares back at Kageyama.

“Wha-?” Kageyama replies, unable to fully comprehend language, knowing something was asked of him but not having the capacity to understand. He continues to lazily stroke Tsukishima, narrow hips grinding against his closed fist, though the desperation that seemed to consume Tsukishima moments ago appears to have settled. 

To Kageyama’s dismay, Tsukishima pulls back, slipping himself from his grasp and removing his broad frame from atop him to sit back in his heels, and Kageyama whines in protest. His long fingers reach to wrap themselves back around Tsukishima’s red and swollen member, but the blonde grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“Any more of that King I won’t be able to stop myself from cumming, and I would prefer to wait until I’m inside you.”

Kageyama’s hips rise off the bed, his asshole clenching tightly as his mind is assaulted with images of Tsukishima’s cock splitting him wide and plunging deep within his eager body.

“I need the lube to continue, however,” Tsukishima says with a smirk, both his larga hands grasping at Kageyama’s more narrow hips. He pulls Kageyama against him as he rolls his hips, his long cock sliding against Kageyama’s balls. Kageyama keens, grabbing Tsukishima’s wrists and rolling his own hips, frustrated because it feels good but the friction isn’t enough.

“King, lube,” Tsukishima pants, continuing to rut against him.

“B-bedside table.”

Tsukishima thrusts a few more times then lets him go to lean over Kageyama toward the small table. While Tsukishima is occupied, Kageyama plants his hands on his trim waist, leaning up to suck on one of his nipples, rolling his tongue around it and flicking at the hardening nub. Tsukishima hisses and curses, fumbling with the drawer. Kageyama grins because he can hear Tsukishima grit his teeth in concentration as he rushes to grab the well used bottle of lube.

Tsukishima leans back, glaring with no heat. “Brat.”

Kageyama smirks. Tsukishima smacks his leg and tells him to roll over again.

“But I want to see you,” Kageyama protests.

Tsukishima smiles. “Trust me, for your first time it will feel better this way.”

Kageyama does trust him, so he rolls over as asked. He hears the lid pop and the squishy sound of lube being squeezed from the bottle. A moment later and Tsukishima’s cleaner hand is palming his ass cheek before spreading it. Then Kageyama feels the tip of his finger prod his entrance and he grunts, clenching down.

“Relax King,” Tsukishima purrs. He presses his finger in, and there is only a little pressure thanks to Tsukishima loosening him up earlier with his tongue. Kageyama forces himself to relax and breathe. Tsukishima doesn’t say anything as he preoceeds to fuck Kageyama with his finger.

“More,” Kageyama demands, grinding back against Tsukishima’s palm.

“Easy, don’t wanna hurt you,” Tsukishima replies and sounds distracted.

“I’m not that fragile,” Kageyama complains. “Besides, I’ve done this before, I know what I can take.”

The finger pauses and Kageyama shifts to look behind himself. Tsukishima is staring at him, his face carefully composed.

“Is that so?”

Kageyama swallows and nods. Tsukishima resumes fingering him, but stretches his long body across Kageyama’s so his lips are right at his ear.

“How often?” Tsukishima asks, his voice sounding ragged like it’s been dragged through gravel.

“None of your business!” Kageyama snaps, but unable to get too pissed when Tsukishima thrusts hard, curling his finger.

“Now now King, don’t be obtuse. How. Often?” He demands, punctuating his question with a few quick hard thrusts.

Kageyama gasps and groans. “E-enough, alright! Like, a lot..._ ah _...lately.”

Tsukishima slows his thrusts. “Is that so? And what, or _ who _, do you think about?” Tsukishima continues to thrust into him, but he’s gentler and...searching. When Kageyama arches his back and shoves back into his hand, he pulls out. “Who, Tobio?”

Kageyama growls in frustration, he has been worked up and kept at the edge for so long. “Please, Kei,” he whines. He doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic, he just wants Tsukishima to finally fuck him. Let him cum.

Tsukishima doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, he teases at his entrance with the pad of one finger. 

“Who?”

Kageyama groans and thrusts his hips back. “You! Okay?!”

Tsukishima growls something unintelligible, lost on Kageyama because two fingers are being pressed into him and Kageyama hisses at the slight burn. Tsukishima doesn’t waste any time, aiming straight for Kageyama’s prostate and rubbing his fingers against it with each shove inward, then scissoring his fingers on each pull out. Kageyama cries out, tears forming in his eyes as he grinds back against the fingers then humps into the bed. It’s frustrating, the fingers feel so good and he’s right on the edge about to cum for the second time tonight, but it just isn’t enough and neither is the friction from the mattress against his aching cock. 

Then Tuskishima reaches between his legs, pulling Kageyama’s cock down, stroking him a few times. But Kageyama is too close. 

“Stop! Please, stop…” he sobs, and Tsukishima does as asked, pulling his fingers from his ass and releasing his cock.

The heat of Tsukishima’s body envelops him as Tsukishima stretches next to him, curling an arm over his back with a squeeze, then he draws gentle circles on his back, leaning into his ear to whisper, “Are you okay, Tobio? We can stop if you need to.”

Kageyama gasps for air against the bed and shakes his head, hsi heart heavy with Tsukishima’s tenderness. “No,” he pants, still trembling from Tsukishima’s fingers moments ago. “I want to keep going,” he says, raising his head to look at Tsukishima. “I just didn’t want to come like that.”

Tsukishima sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. Kageyama feels his cock jump against his leg, and it causes another wave of heat to rush down his spine. Tsukishima leans in, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue digging far into his mouth. Tsukishima presses their lips together harshly, devouring Kageyama until he’s whimpering. And without breaking the kiss, Tsukishima rises to one knee, resting his weight on it and his hand, the other hand threading through the hair at the back of Kageyama’s head. He grips the strands, still ravishing Kageyama’s mouth as he throws his other leg over Kageyama, rutting against his hip. Tsukishima reluctantly breaks the kiss to find the lube. He quickly pours some into his hand, stroking the slickness over his length. Then he fully covers Kageyama’s back, shoving his face between Kageyama’s shoulder and head to reach his neck, hungrily mouthing at the soft skin. Kageyama leans into it, and he can feel Tsukishima stroking himself, so he cants his hips back, wordlessly encouraging Tsukishima to take him already.

“You ready for me?” Tsukishima asks, pressing his cheek to the side of Kageyama’s head so his mouth is just above his ear. Tsukihsima’s voice is deep and gravelly, and Kageyama moans quietly. He nods and the next thing he feels is one ass cheek being pulled aside and the hot, bulbous head of Tsukishima’s cock insistent at his entrance.

Tsukishima’s teeth ache from the tension in his jaw. The head of his cock slips in past the ring of muscle with a soft pop and his entire body tenses and trembles against the urge to cum. 

It has been like this since he first felt Kageyama’s lips on his; the urgent need to find satisfaction, the culmination of months of denial and frustration. He’s been able to stave it off, rejecting the wave of encompassing pleasure, but right now, every muscle locks in place as his body is wrecked by the struggle not to blow his load like an overexcited teenager getting his dick wet for the first time. 

It was satisfying when Kageyama came with Tsukishima’s tongue inside him, his cock throbbing pleasantly in the aftermath. The raw sensation of Kageyama’s cock rubbing against his own was as near a religious experience as Tsukishima’s ever been. And it was excruciatingly sexy hearing Kageyama fucks himself on his fingers “a lot” to fantasies of him, and Tsukishima’s groin ached painfully as he focused on loosening Kageyama’s ass in preparation of his weeping cock. Now it’s just bloody fucking torture. It’s unnecessary, goddamned torture as his dick slips slowly into the tight, wet heat of Kageyama’s body, knowing that his cock is the first to penetrate Kageyama’s virgin, eager hole. Tsukishima fights against every tempting need to bury himself to his balls and fuck himself stupid into the boy beneath him.

Tsukishima’s never fucked a virgin before, and most assholes are tight to begin with, but Kageyama feels like a vice, and it’s almost painful in the most divine way. He forces himself to take his time, listening to every hitch of breath, feeling for every flex of muscle, because he’ll be damned if this goes wrong and Kageyama’s first time is ruined by impatience.

It feels like an eternity before he’s fully sheathed inside Kageyama, and Tsukishima sucks in heavy breaths, his eyes closed, as he concentrates in letting Kageyama adjust. Both of them are trembling with want and anticipation, skin slick with sweat, and Tsukishima allows his hands to roam the narrow expanse of Kageyama’s muscular back and along his ribs. Kageyama spreads his legs a little more, chest and stomach pressing into the mattress while his hips tilt upward. Tsukishima sinks in just a few centimeters more and Kageyama grunts breathlessly.

“You’re so, _ ngh _, deep,” he pants heavily, his hole flexing around Tsukishima in the most delicious way.

“Does it hurt?” Tsukishima asks quietly, leaning in to kiss Kageyama’s sweaty temple. 

The soft, only hair tickles his lips as Kageyama shakes his head. “No.” He rolls his hips with the barest movement, and Tsukishima hisses, thighs twitching with the need to work.

He answers Kageyama’s movement with one of his own, pulling out part way and sliding back in, grinding hard against Kageyama’s cheeks.

“_ Ha ahh… _” Kageyama croons, and Tsukishima watches the way he’s his slender fingers curl in the sheets, his shoulders shaking with pleasure. Tsukishima does the move again, adding his voice to Kageyama’s soft cry. 

Tsukishima moans deep in his chest, his cock throbbing inside Kageyama, a steady leaking of precum adding to the slickness of the lube. He pulls out a title further, jerking his hips forward hard enough it jostles Kageyama, and grinds against him again before repeating the process.

“Knew you’d feel good, King. Knew you’d take me well.”

Kageyama half sobs, half moans, arching his back a little more as if he’s trying to get Tsukishima to climb inside him. Tsukishima lowers himself fully onto Kageyama, presses against his skin from chest to hips, curling his legs up behind the boy beneath him until even their thighs are aligned. Tsukishima slips his arms underneath Kageyama’s, wrapping his hands around his shoulders as he continues to fuck him slow with hard pressed of his groin against Kageyama’s ass.

Kageyama turns his head and Tsukishima is enamored by what he sees in his profile; the soft vulnerability in his expression, his dusky cheeks and kiss plump lips, his blown out pupils and teary gaze. Kageyama’s mouth drops open and his eyes close with the next thrust, and all Tsukishima wants in that moment is to taste his mouth and breathe his air. He stretches forward as much as he can, continuing to roll his hips, but the angle makes it hard to pull out, so he’s mostly just grinding against him. It feels phenomenal, and Tsukishima kisses Kageyama's slack lips, licking into his hot mouth. It’s sloppy with too much spit, but it heightens the pleasure between his legs, making his balls draw close as he rushes toward his finish. Tsukishima pulls away to suck in a lungful air.

“Kei,” Kageyama sighs, nuzzling into Tsukishima’s chin. “Kei, please…” he moans, high pitched and needy and Tsukishima knows he’s done for.

Tsukishima rises off him onto his knees. He wraps his large hands around Kageyama’s narrow waist and pulls him up onto shaky knees. They share no words between them, nothing else needing said. They’ve reached the pinnacle of their coupling and now Tsukishima is ready to bring Kageyama over the edge into the white bliss of orgasm. Kageyama is loose and pliant, willing, and Tsukishima pushes him forward as he draws back. He slams his hips against Kageyama who throws his head back with a shout, his back arching like an invisible rope is pulling him toward the mattress. Tsukishima fucks him hard and fast after that, relishing the way Kageyama’s voice keeps breaking with every cry and garbled utterance of his name.

It’s not going to be long now, for both of them. Kageyam’a body shakes like he’s seizing, his muscles tense beneath Tsukishima’s palms. Tsukishima’s aren’t doing any better, his toes curling and stomach tightening every time he sinks into Kageyama’s body.

Tsukishima watches Kageyama’s hand snake between his legs, his forearm flexing rhythmically as he strokes himself roughly to completion. Tsukishima tilts his own hips, aiming for that spot he found earlier, and knows he has it when Kageyama jerks in his grasp and gasps loudly.

“I’m-I’m fucking cumming!” Kageyama yells, burying his face into his pillow and gripping the sheets until his knuckles are white.

“Don’t hide your face!” Tsukishima growls, speeding up his thrusts, his cock pulsing. He’s so close. “I wanna hear you!”

“Holy fu-YES! Yes! There!” Kageyama yells when he lifts his head. Tsukishima wishes he could see his face. He groans, tightening his grip on Kageyama's waist as his cock is squeezed even tighter.

“I’m gonna cum,” he pants, “can I? I wanna cum in you.”

Kageyama groans long and loud, his entire body going rigid as he finally releases. “_ Fuuuu _ ... _ yes! Kei please! Cum in me! Fuck, cum…” _

And that’s it for Tsukishima. He hurtles over the edge into oblivion as his own orgasm thrashes him like being caught in a typhoon. He grimaces, the muscles in his face pinching, but not in pain. His thighs shake, his butt clenches until his cheeks cramp from the pressure, and he’s pretty sure he popped the knuckles in his toes from curling them so hard. He paints Kageyama’s insides in heavy stripes, releasing all the pent up frustration from months of wanting. His voice cracks as Kageyama’s name is punched from his lips with a force of air. Kageyama clenches around him, the glove of his hole milking him until his balls ache. Tsukishima fucks them both through the vestiges of their shared climax until they’re both twitching from overstimulation, then he pulls out as gently as his tired muscles allow, letting Kageyama collapse to the mattress as he follows him, rolling to the side, one arm flung over Kageyama’s lower back.

The apartment is quiet except for their heavy breathing. He lays beside Kageyama in the narrow bed, chilled as the cooler air dries the sweat on his body.

Tsukishima pulls out of him and Kageyama’s heart skips, his stomach somersaulting at the loss. He feels oddly naked, more so than a few minutes ago without Tsukishima’s warmth and weight or presence at his back. He takes comfort in the fact Tsukishima’s beside him, panting for air just as hard as he is.

This whole night has been so surreal, Kageyama is still processing the fact his crush showed up at his door and willingly rearranged his insides. He’s almost sure this is the most lucid wet dream he’s ever had, a last ditch effort of his psyche to give him what he’s craved for so long. But the heat at his side and the fingertips tickling his back say this is all real, and Kageyama is fucked out and now panicking that Tsukishima is going to get up and leave and he’ll be left like a drug addict, trying and never finding this perfect high again.

The body next to him moves, strong arms tugging and pulling at him until both bodies are wrapped together like a tangle of string, Kageyama’s head tucked beneath Tsukishima’s chin. He sighs blissfully, nuzzling close and sliding his arm beneath Tsukishima’s and curling it around his back. Cum leaks from his ass and it’s gross, but it also makes him proud knowing it’s a part of Tsukishima that was left inside him, a mark the beautiful boxer was there and claimed him.

“We should shower and clean you out soon.”

Kageyama hums, too satisfied and relaxed to care for the moment. He plants a chaste kiss against Tsukishima’s collar bone, and it’s returned with a soft press of lips to the top of his head.

They lay like that, quietly savoring each other in the semi-darkness, the street light from outside Kageyama’s room spilling its ghostly white light through the window on the opposite wall.

“Go out with me.” The words are whispered so quietly that Kageyama almost thinks he imagines it in his half-comatose state. He doesn’t know if Tsukishima means on a date or as boyfriends and he doesn’t ask for clarification. He doesn’t care, it wouldn’t matter either way. Whether they fuck it up or make it work, they were finally doing this.

“Yeah,” Kageyama answers with a sleepy smile.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima says with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos welcome.


End file.
